


Win A Date With Logan Echolls

by DestinyFreeReally



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Completely AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-24 20:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 33,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12020691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyFreeReally/pseuds/DestinyFreeReally
Summary: Mega-blockbuster movie actor Aaron Echolls' son, Logan Echolls, has a hard-earned reputation as a Hollywood partyboy, much to his father's disapproval. To generate some Echolls-positive press, Aaron's PR team devises a Win-A-Date with Logan Echolls competition, which hard-working PI  Veronica Mars (entered unknowingly in the contest by her well-meaning and half-joking closest friend Wallace) actually wins. Logan's a hot, rich jerk, Veronica's not exactly nice or his type, but definitely smart and attractive, but for some reason, spoiler alert: love probably prevails.Note: this is NOT a LoVe rewrite of "Win A Date with Tad Hamilton" i'm borrowing the premise only, because seriously the way that movie ends is still........ confusing.





	1. Winning the Date

    Opening one bloodshot eye, slowly and reluctantly, Logan took in his surroundings, and with a sigh of relief, recognized his own room. Putting the fact that he didn’t remember getting home last night right out of his head, Logan mentally scored again when he realized he was alone. No awkward post-coital, one-night-stand chit-chat, and he finally opened his other eye. _God,_ _were the lights in this room always this bright?_  
  
    “Logan? Logan, are you _up_ yet?” His father called for him, and all Logan’s relief left the building. At least if he would’ve had a girl with him, his dad would’ve respected his privacy.   
  
    “Coming.” Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Logan pulled on a striped bathrobe, ugly but comfortable, and the pair of sunglasses next to his bed, and followed his feet all the way down to the breakfast table.   
  
    “Do you know what the Hollywood Reporter’s headline stories are about today, son?” Aaron Echolls, movie-star-mega-hit had won just about every award except for Father of the Year. He insisted it wasn’t for lack of trying; eyeing his son’s offensive bathroom and sunglasses, Aaron rolled his eyes.   
  
    “No, but I bet you want to tell me. Is Katie Holmes finally getting her divorce finalized?” Pouring cornflakes into a bowl, Logan had to fight a squint at the noise, cereal plinking into the bowl hurt his hangover.   
  
    “Well, maybe, but I wouldn’t know anything about it because the Hollywood Reporter, along with every other Hollywood news outlet, is reporting solely on _your_ night of alcohol-fueled party-hopping and date-swapping down the strip.” Tone gone feral, Aaron growled his disapproval, thrusting the paper across the dining room table. “You know how this looks for me? You know what the blowback could be on my career?”  
  
 _Oh no, you’ll have to make films with only double-digit million budgets?_ Logan tried not to yawn his boredom and dissatisfaction with this line of conversation.   
  
    “I only went to two parties, and I only had two dates, one for each party, obviously.” Taking the orange juice the housekeeper poured him, Logan smiled his thanks at Mrs. Navarro, even though her face said she was clearly judging him; he could see that through the shades. He’d had a good night, though; he assumed, because he couldn’t remember any of it. The picture on the cover of the Hollywood Reporter was of him and hot brunette, sharing a limo full of champagne and caviar. _See? Caviar-fueled party-hopping_ ; but Logan wasn’t sure that’d help his case all that much.   
  
    “Why can’t you take this _seriously_?” Aaron’s hand slapped down against the glass table, and out of the corner of his eye Logan saw Mrs. Navarro’s shoulders shake at the noise.   
  
    “Guess I didn’t get that gene?” Logan picked up his cereal bowl, these cornflakes were going to have to be a to-go order.   
  
    “No,” Aaron’s voice stopped his son from leaving, “this time, there’s a consequence, Logan. All morning my PR staff’s been working on a resistance plan-”  
  
    “ _Jesus_ you called in the Warren Commission? Over two parties?”   
  
    “As long as you have my name, you represent my brand, Logan, and _this_ -” Throwing the magazine at the wall with a _slap_ , Aaron continued, “isn’t the image I’ve cultivated for two decades. Clarence thinks-”  
  
    “A man so toothless he can only eat soup; yes, what does Clarence think?” Logan crunched his cornflakes even harder; mouth full of teeth, he liked to use.   
  
    “Enough. You’re doing this. The staff’s putting together a charity event, a _raffle_ of sorts, to benefit a charity of your choosing. The winner of said-raffle, will win a date with you. On which, you will be polite, gentlemanly, and completely one hundred percent fucking sober, or…” Aaron collected himself, cooling his palms on the glass of the table, “Or I’m cutting you off.”  
  
    Logan’s metal spoon clinked against the side of his bowl, last of his cornflakes slurped up, when he nearly choked on them. For years, since his 18th birthday, Logan’s dad had always threatened to go nuclear- to go to the cut-off option.   
  
    “I have a director looking at me to be part of his next project, and if you don’t generate me some positive press, I won’t get the part.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Aaron huffed a sigh. “I _will_ get that part, Logan, and you will give some Mid-western wholesome farmgirl the date of her life if I have to pull your strings like goddamn Geppeto and Pinnochio the whole night.” Downing the last of his coffee, Aaron dismissed his sullen, still-hungover son.   
  


* * *

  
  
    Veronica’s phone buzzed and she expected it to be her friend Wallace, telling her she was fifteen minutes late for their lunch date, even though she already knew that. Without checking the number, she swept her blonde hair behind her ear and nestled her phone between her shoulder and her cheek.   
  
    “Fennell? I got hung up with a client I’ll-”   
  
    “Excuse me, is this Ms. Veronica Mars?”    
  
    Veronica blinked, taking the phone back in her hand.   
  
    “Yes, sorry, this is she, what is this in reference to?” This was her personal cell, the one phone she didn’t take clients’ calls on, and Veronica was just dying to know how this person got this number.    
  
    “Hi there!” The woman chirped in Veronica’s ear. “I’m so happy to be calling you, my name is Rhonda, I’m from the Win-A-Date with Logan Echolls competition, and Veronica Mars, I have the best news you’re gonna hear all day! You’ve won the contest! Friday night, you and Logan Echolls will have an-expenses-paid five star meal and date. In your inbox you’ll find further directions and a thank you note for your generous donation to helping save more animal shelters in Southern California. Congratulations, again!”    
  
    Before Veronica had the chance to ask one or fifteen follow-ups, the tone went dead and the call was apparently over.    
  
    “Logan Echolls, Aaron Echolls’ kid?” Veronica blinked; she’d heard about the contest, it was like a charity auction, with only one prize. Wallace had mentioned that she should’ve entered, this way she’d have gone on at least one date this year-  _ Wallace. _ Veronica was gonna taser him.    
  
    Forgetting that she’d made him wait almost twenty minutes for her in the restaurant, Veronica tore into their usual lunch place, and as soon as she found him sitting at their table, he knew he was in trouble.    
  
   “Supafly? Is everything o-”   
  
    “Did-you-enter-me-in-that-stupid-Logan-Echolls-thing?” Veronica ground out, sinking into the chair next to him. “Because if not, I just got the  _ weirdest _ phone call,” Glaring at him, Veronica waited for him to tell her that there had obviously been some huge mistake.    
  
    “No  _ way _ , you won? Fifty bucks well spent, you’re welcome; movie star’s son, probably caviar dinner, you better tell me everything.” Wallace sipped his water, trying to ignore her persistent glare. “Well, not everything, if you two… you know, get  _ busy _ in his limo or something I don’t need to know about all that,  _ hey.” _ Rubbing his arm where she’d slapped it, Wallace really tried not to laugh. He tried, but it didn’t help.    
  
    “This is not  _ funny, _ I’m seriously supposed to go out to dinner with Aaron Echolls’ son?” Veronica ordered her cheeseburger and tried to wrap her head around it. “I don’t even like to date  _ regular _ jerks; and from what it says in the tabloids, Logan’s a  _ professional _ .” Shaking her head, Veronica was gonna get Wallace back for this. In some, huge way, she was going to make him absolutely regret doing this to her.    
  
    “Hey, maybe those stories aren’t true.” Shrugging, Wallace easily assumed the guy was a jerk. But she didn’t have to marry him; Wallace still laughed. “Fine, maybe he’s a jerk, but you haven’t taken a Friday night off in six  _ months _ , V. Let the guy buy you dinner, drink the  _ fancy _ wine off the menu, remember what it’s like out here in the real world, will you just please go? I  _ did  _ pay the fifty bucks for the entrance fee, you can at least go and get my money’s worth.” Licking his lips, Wallace couldn’t believe he’d actually defeated her when she didn’t immediately refuse the date outright. “Besides, I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes waiting on you, again.”   
  
    “I got caught up with a client,” Slurping her milkshake, Veronica sighed. What’d the woman say on the phone? A five-star meal; she shrugged. Logan Echolls could more than afford the lobster, if IMDB was to be trusted about his father’s earnings. “It’s gonna be awkward though, won’t it? His dad’s movies are kind of…”    
  
   Veronica tried to imagine what the night would go like, exactly.    
  
   “They’re trash, who cares?” Laughing, Wallace shook his head. “Just  _ go, _ will you? Have a  _ little _ ,  _ tiny _ smidgen of fun that doesn’t involve stalking criminals or knowing people’s dirt.”    
  
    Rolling her eyes, Veronica didn’t think she’d really been working as hard as all that, lately. Sure, she’d been sleeping less, working  _ more _ , but that didn’t mean anything. She just hadn’t met a guy she wanted to spend friday nights with that wasn’t Wallace or her dad or her dog. Besides, Mars’ Investigations was doing well, all through the transition of her taking it over. And she was proud of that, and hoped her dad was proud of her, too. Maybe she had earned just  _ one _ night off, even if she had to spend it with some miserably rich kid, she promised herself she’d just order the lobster and the fancy wine and make Wallace happy.    



	2. Like the Planet

   “Veronica _Mars?_ Like the planet?” Logan fussed with his tie for another ten seconds, and then decided no-tie, one-button-open was going to be the order of this date.   
  
    “Like the planet,” Clarence Weidman, his dad’s new publicist, nodded behind Logan in the mirror.   
  
    “Is she hot?” Logan laughed, turning around to face Clarence. Loose sport-jacket, and wearing his best, fancy shoes, Logan didn’t need Clarence’s nod to tell him this suit was worth every penny of his father’s money. This Win-A-Date contest was a charity publicity stunt, and Logan favored sucking it up and eating dinner with a woman than living on the street if he refused.   
  
    “I’m certain I don’t know and I’m certain it doesn’t matter. Be nice to her, okay? There’s going to be a lot of cameras, make sure you both smile constantly, be polite, be friendly, talk up your father’s latest film projects and merchandise.” At Logan’s sigh, Clarence knew he’d said the wrong thing.  
  
    “You want me to sell overstocked action DVDs over fine italian cuisine?” Fixing his left cufflink, Logan twisted his face into a smile so impossibly ingenuine it belonged in one of his father’s least-convincing film roles. Which was all of them, in his opinion. He was a little insulted that Clarence didn’t think he knew to be _nice_. He could be perfectly nice, he could be a perfect gentleman. When the moment presented itself.  
  
    “Definitely don’t make that face at her. Get in the limo, go straight to her hotel, actually _leave_ the hotel, and make your scheduled stops at the press points we’ve set up for you.” Stopping at the curb, Clarence tried to think of any final warnings, anything he was forgetting. But the driver opened the door, and Logan shot Clarence a two-finger-guns goodbye.   
  
     With a sigh,Clarence made the call to the hotel to confirm that Veronica Mars had actually checked in.  
  
   Smoothing the edges of her skirt down, Veronica eyed the soft waves of her blonde hair in the mirror, and tried not to chew off the red lipstick she’d already applied twice. It was hard to figure out why she was nervous- the Win-A-Date people had eventually called back and told her what to expect. She was supposed to be wowed, photographed, and then never heard from again. That was all fine in her book, so why did the knock on her hotel door just make her jump?  
  
    “Coming!” She called, grabbing her purse off the bed. The meal wasn’t the only five-star accommodation to come with the win,  the hotel suite Veronica was staying in had more square footage than her apartment. And the crystalline chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling was certainly… a view.   
  
    “Hi,” Veronica went for casual, even though the circumstances of this date were probably going to be extremely weird.   
  
    “Veronica, right?” Logan extended his hand, a little taken aback by her eyes, and her dress…  
  
    “Veronica Mars.” Smiling, Veronica pulled the hotel door closed behind her, and followed him out to hotel’s plush hall carpeting. Taller in person than he looked in the tabloids, Veronica felt dwarfed, even in the size heels she was wearing. _Certainly fills out a suit nicely,_ she ducked her head thinking the thought.  
  
    “Right, like the planet.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Logan wasn’t sure why he’d said that outloud, she probably got that all the time. _Veronica Pluto. Veronica Jupiter_. Nah, only Veronica Mars had a real ring to it; the irony was, it was probably a great name for Hollywood. He didn't mention _that._   “Say, you haven’t been cooped up, hiding on a farm somewhere, have you?”   
  
    Looking down at her again, Logan was positive the contest was supposed to match him up with a middle-aged mom who loved his father’s movies, or a farmgirl from Idaho who’d never dated a guy with all his teeth.   
  
    “I think we went to a dairy farm once, on a school trip in like the second grade? Otherwise… no, why do you ask?” She squinted up at him, thrown by his question and definitely tasting her lipstick again.   
  
    “No reason,” Shaking his head, Logan saw the lobby coming up. “Okay, this is gonna be a little rough, but lucky for you I’m very experienced in being bombarded by all of Hollywood’s most persistent press corps. Who’d you talk to, Rhonda? She should’ve told you about sunglasses.” Stopping her with a soft hold on her wrist, Logan supplied a pair of plastic sunglasses, slipping them on her face. They were too big, and too dark for her, but when she went to take them off, he insisted. “Trust me,” he kept his voice low, and lead her into the lobby.   
  
    If the first camera flash stunned her, the next dozen, paired with screams for Logan and a crowd that closed in on them, left Veronica reaching for Logan’s hand without thinking- and him tugging her through the crowd outside to the limo.   
  
    “So, does this bad boy come with a motorcade, or what?” Veronica caught her breath, sliding across the backseat of the limo, handing Logan’s sunglasses back to him.   
  
    “You wish,” he smiled at her, at the way she didn’t shrink from the cameras, but didn’t play for them either. Ninety-nine out of Logan’s last hundred dates would’ve posed in their two seconds of spotlight, but Veronica kept her cool and walked by his side. For the first time since seeing her legs in that dress, Logan was kind of excited by the prospect of this girl.  
  
    “Is it always like that?” Veronica asked quietly, mustering more sympathy for Logan-Echolls-Hollywood-playboy than she previously figured she could. She shook her head at herself, chiding; she wasn’t actually _liking_ him, she was just having a… human moment, or human empathy for another human-shaped person. In the back of his limousine.   
  
    “Pretty much?” Smoothing his hands down the knees of his slacks, Logan shrugged. “You’d think it’d be a dream to be this good-looking, but…” he tilted his head towards the window, as they pulled up to the restaurant, where a fresh crowd of paparazzi waited for a glimpse of Aaron Echolls’ son.   
  
    “Yeah, yeah, we all have our crosses to bear,” Veronica teased him out of his next gloomy thought, pushing him back out the limo.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i have all your guys' sweet comments to answer and i willll answer them i swear school's started back again and i just wanted to get this posted and out there because i've been writing in between classes and having suuuuuch a good time with this. ALSO! the lovely and talented   
>  AlinaSorokina made a supercool cover to go with this story check it out if you havent!!!! http://archiveofourown.org/works/12023841


	3. Dinner and Dessert

   Walking through the restaurant, Veronica started rethinking her choice in heels. She didn’t mean to keep walking so close to him, practically a breath behind him, but everyone’s eyes watching them through the italian restaurant started making Veronica feel like she had something on her face. When in reality, she just had something on her arm; a Logan Echolls. Seriously jarring, Veronica tried to put everyone’s glaring aside, so far Logan had kind of surprised her. She’d half-expected him to show up drunk, with another date maybe, double-fisting cuban cigars like some sort of self-loathing, self-indulgent Hollywood stereotype.   
  
    With a brandish of his arm leading her to their table, Logan smiled uneasily, trying to remember when his last, real, successful date was. Tenth grade? Ninth? Did high school dates even count out here in the real world?  
  
    “Thanks,” Veronica eyed the breadsticks in the middle of their table. It was a high, corner booth, almost tucked away from everyone else in the place. _He wasn’t kidding when he said he had experience with this stuff;_ it was practically a stealth maneuver she might’ve used to follow a client. From her position in the booth, Veronica could only see two other tables, one of which was empty, but the occupied one caught her attention. It was two middle-aged women eating together, and splayed between them was the latest issue of Hollywood Reporter, and Logan’s reputation inadvertently got a seat next to Veronica, too. Clearing her throat, Veronica poured them both water from the table, and tried to think about the last time she was on a date that hadn’t been a complete disaster.   
  
    When Veronica stifled a laugh, Logan wasn’t sure what to think without following up.   
  
    “What’s funny?” He asked, already half-amused but still hopeful the joke wasn’t on him.   
  
    Shaking her head, Veronica smiled shameful to herself, for being caught. “Sorry… I was thinking about the last date I was on.” Swigging her water, noting the lack of something stronger, Veronica smiled again.  
  
    “Oh? Should I be jealous?” Logan leaned in, ready to hear the full story that made her laugh if she was ready to tell it; the slight pink in her cheeks was as flattering as it was alluring. For once, the private booth in the restaurant didn’t make him feel suffocated, he was glad to be here, with her, nearly alone.   
  
    “There’s not much of a story…” Shaking her head, again, Veronica thought about Leo; her most-recent dating disaster area. “Let me preface this not-story by letting you know, that living  in a small, beach town like Neptune is somewhat devastating to the potential dating pool.”  
  
    Logan laughed, reaching into the breadbasket, and serving them each a roll. “Noted. _Not_ jealous then, I guess. Go on, go on.” The last time Logan had a conversation with a girl who could laugh at herself….. Well, Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with a girl who could laugh at herself.   
  
    “It was just…” Veronica shook her head. Somewhere in her recent memory there was a promise to herself that she’d never tell this story to anyone, ever, again, from sheer, bone-crushing embarrassment. “We meet for the first time, at one of Neptune’s two clubs, and obviously he’s already plastered, calling me _Ronnie_ and hanging on me, so I order us two coffees while I try and plan an escape route that doesn’t include lighting the entire bar on fire, when he turns to me and goes, ‘are you figuring out how you’re going to leave?’” Encouraged by Logan’s hesitant laugh, Veronica smiled. “Two days later he texted me he was sorry, though, whatever that was worth; fresh out of a bad break-up and stuff.”   
  
    Like it physically hurt him, Logan winced. “I can see why you’d try your luck at celebrity contest dates only, from now on. If you’re interested, I have a little pull with Ashton Kutcher’s Win-A-Date committee.” Teasing, Logan exhaled his breath that even if he was a bad date, he wouldn’t be her worst. Interrupted by a waiter with house salads to start them off, Logan had to fight the urge to call her _Ronnie,_ in the disgusted tone of voice she’d given it. He filed it away for later.   
  
    “I _do_ have a confession.” Veronica took a bite of her salad, feeling _some_ of the tension and awkwardness ease out of her.   
  
    “Those aren’t your real boobs.” Logan dead-panned, and pointedly kept his eyes on his plate while he did so.  
  
   “What?” Veronica laughed, exasperated, “No! Well… _Yes_ , these are my… That’s not my confession,” She started again. “I didn’t actually… _enter_ the contest, per se. I have a best friend, who’s unendingly concerned that I’m going to end up dying utterly alone, and I think entering me in your contest was a last-ditch effort to get my dance card punched before I called Leo again. Leo was the guy with the fresh break up who was drunk when I… right, you got it.” With another bite of salad, Veronica eyed the main-course menu, reminding herself she was only here to get Wallace’s fifty bucks back. “I almost turned Rhonda down, you know; I mean, I didn’t expect to actually...” She trailed off, figuring the only ways that sentence ended were straight-up insulting to him at this point. Ignoring the way Logan’s tongue licked dressing off his top lip, Veronica decided on the lobster ravioli; ravioli for her, lobster for Wallace, and still room for some fancy dessert. “I am… _glad_ that I came though,” She admitted, looking across the booth at him, at last.   
  
    “I’m glad you came, too.” Logan smiled. She wasn’t what he expected out of this date, either, and he was pleasantly surprised so far. “When I reluctantly agreed to be prize for winning, I definitely didn’t picture having dinner with you,” he spoke honestly, still inexplicably trying to picture her on a farm, for some reason.   
  
    “This contest wasn’t your idea?” Curious as to how one _ended up_ a prize for winning, Veronica was dying to hear that story, even as the waited interrupted again, and took their orders.   
  
    “You _wound_ me; you think I need a raffle to pick up women when my daddy’s last name and black card do it all for me?” Logan laughed effortlessly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.   
  
    “Hmm. I guess that’d do it, yeah; so why _are_ you here?” On to her second glass of water, Veronica tried to gauge where they were with each other. Obviously not a real date, she’d won a _raffle_ , after all- but still, not the worst meal she’d ever shared with a man.    
  
    “Killer lasagna here.” Logan smirked, not dodging the question, just… taking a minute to think about it, really. “Plus, I mostly just wanted to see if your last name really _was_ Mars. Tell me the truth, that’s an alias, you’re just running from the law.”  
  
   “Well, not exactly…” When Veronica’s ravioli came, smelling and looking as delicious as it did, she almost lost her train of thought tearing into it. “I’m a little closer to the law than I am running from it, usually.”   
  
   Smacking himself on the forehead like he should’ve had a V8, Logan winced. “We’ve talked about bad dates before I even asked what you do. I’m sort of used to running with a particular crowd; models, wannabe-actresses, married socialites.” Ignoring the cover of the Hollywood Reporter on the table next to them, Logan shook his head, knowing how he must sound to someone like her. “What do you, Veronica Mars? _Please_ don’t tell me you’re a cop.”   
  
    It wasn’t that she didn’t have the body for modeling, Logan just didn’t think she had the personality for it. Or the appetite; he smiled at the way she ate. It was another reminder that he wasn’t here with an actress, thinking she could bang him for a part as an extra in his dad’s next movie. So what if the Win-A-Date was an illusion? Maybe Veronica Mars could be a nice break, a nice dinner, with a normal girl. Even if she was a cop?  
  
    “Actually, I’m a private investigator; I… work with my dad,or, I guess he works with me, now.” Sipping her water, Veronica chewed her bottom lip, “About six months ago he had a minor stroke, and he’s been taking it easy since then. In high school and college, I was the secretary for the office, and it kind of turned into a full-time position, and now I have my license and a business card and everything.” With a shrug, Veronica considered that she liked her job, really liked it, actually. All the late nights hadn’t been good for her last real relationship, though, and she hadn’t bothered pursuing a new one after Duncan Kane called it quits. Remembering their last fight, Veronica shook her head; he’d really gone with the ultimatum. Their last fight about her taking too many dangerous jobs had spiralled out of control, and finally Duncan just drew the line in the sand. She looked for other work, or they couldn’t stay together. With another slow shake of her head, and sip of her water, Veronica just idly wondered how on earth he could’ve gotten the idea that he would’ve won that decision.   
  
    “Really? A PI?” Logan laughed, inexplicably picturing her in a long, beige trench coat, smoking a long cigarette.   
  
    “What’s funny?” Veronica laughed, too, finding it weird that Logan found her so amusing.  
  
    “I don’t know, it’s just…” Shaking his head, Logan realized he couldn’t be farther away from the comfort-zone of usual dates he had his choice of every weekend night.  “You're like, four feet tall, even strapped into those heels; I mean, really? Do you carry night vision goggles and a lie detector in your purse?”  
  
    Tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, Veronica shook her head. “No night-vision goggles, and lie-detectors are piss-poor indicators of fibbing, but I _do_ carry a taser with me, so just keep remember that when you feel like your hands may want to wander onto this side of the table, alright? And I'm _five_ foot one, thank you, kindly.” Holding back a laugh, her eyebrow mocked a warning that her eyes promised she could make good on.   
  
    “A taser? No kidding.” Letting out a whistle, Logan cut through the last bite of his steak. Her purse was so tiny, so unassuming; bit like her that way, he guessed. “I should add you to my security detail, I’m pretty sure Freddy, the limo driver, only carries pepper spray to beat off the crazies.” Fork and knife down, Logan wasn’t sure what the next phase of this date was supposed to be; he was rapidly running out of safe script with this girl. And she had a taser on her.   
  
    “Yeah, well. My dad carries a gun, so.” Casual shrug, and a cordial smile, Veronica caught Logan’s slow, dry nod. “Besides, PI work isn’t really like the movies; mostly it’s tracking husbands to motels with their secretaries, and catching people trying to run insurance scams. Once in awhile I’ll go after a bail jumper or two, if the bounty’s right, and then I come home to my loving dog and cookie dough ice cream.” It’d been a long time since Veronica had to explain her life to a stranger, and she felt odd showing it to Logan Echolls. “I’m only telling you all this because I googled you, and I feel like I should even the score a little. In the interest of fairness.”   
  
    “You _googled_ me?” Laughing short, Logan blinked his surprise. He wondered why _he’d_ never googled his own name. “Well, in _the interest of fairness_ , I feel like I should google you, Veronica Mars, private investigator.” Whipping out his iPhone from his sport-jacket pocket, Logan couldn’t believe the first article about her. “Did you hit a man with your car?” Unable to keep himself from laughing, Logan waved the phone at her like proof.  
  
    Huffing a sigh, Veronica rolled her eyes, “I _grazed_ him, he was being dramatic; and he was wanted for domestic assault! I just wanted him to know what it felt like to get hit back.” Innocently, Veronica shrugged angelic, and ordered the chocolate cake for dessert. Sooner or later, as fun as this date was, Veronica knew the clock would strike midnight and her carriage would turn back into a pumpkin. For that, she ordered the cake. Logan ordered the apple pie, and Veronica gave him his due for the classics.   
  
    “Okay, so you grazed him.” Tucking his phone back away, Logan eyed her hand idling on the cream tablecloth, just out of his reach, and resisted the urge to touch her. “And he deserved it,” he added, and watched her glare fade. “So, are you working on any cases now? Or is it all top-secret and highly classified?”  
  
    “I think you’re getting me confused for a spy, _or_ perhaps someone from a comic-book?” Veronica laughed, and was happy to see the waited arrive with their desserts. “I told you, boring stuff; I haven’t done anything really _dangerous_ in…” Well, the thing with the mob was technically still on-going, but she’d mostly shied away from the big parts of it. “I _am_ working on a case, actually, I’m trying to figure out how on earth I ended up having dinner with such a nosey date.” She teased, and fought the desire to steal a little whipped cream off his pie-plate.   
  
    “I think you mentioned a best friend… Who got you into this mess.” Gesturing to the restaurant with his fork, Logan’s attention was stolen briefly by the women next to them, who were clearly just eavesdropping at this point.   
  
    Mouth full of cake, Veronica nodded enthusiastically. “And _boy_ , am I gonna make him pay for this torture,” pointing down to her plate, she earned herself another easy laugh from Logan Echolls.   
  
    “ _Him_ , huh?”   
  
    “Don’t tell me you’re the jealous type,” Veronica shook her head. “Wallace, my best friend, is the most incredible guy, and he’s married to the most wonderful woman.” Smiling, Veronica loved Jackie; well, now anyway. Their relationship had needed some time to… develop. She’d also been the jealous type. “I got to be the best man. Tux and everything.” She winked.   
  
    “Well, I guess me and Wallace have at least one thing in common,” Logan cleaned his plate, dessert fully conquered, and smiled across the table at her, desperately trying not to picture her looking great in a tux. “Neither one of us wants you to die alone.” Smiling still, he drained the last of his water and realized they’d never gotten real drinks. He’d never gotten around to ordering any fancy wine or pricey champagne, he’d been distracted.   
  
    “I told you, I have my dog, remember? _Both_ your’s and Wallace’s concerns are pointless, Back Up’s gonna love me forever for my belly-rubbing skills.” Laughing off the way Logan was smiling at her, was looking at her, Veronica reminded herself about Cinderella’s pumpkin. _Nevermind_ _that Cinderella actually got the prince;_ that _was a fairytale._ _  
_ _  
_     “You wanna get out of here?” Signing the check with the practiced air of someone who signed a lot of checks, Logan closed the bill and stood, offering Veronica his hand.   
  
    “You wanna have a second of fun, first?” Veronica talked out of the side of her mouth, and grabbed the glass of water she still had left. “I’ll spill, you bump.” She winked, and gestured to the glass, with her eyes over at the table of women who were still watching them, riveted. Once she took two close steps to the ladies’ table, Logan’s elbow _bumped_ Veronica’s arm holding the glass, and the water subsequently fell across the issue of _Hollywood Reporter,_ and one of the woman’s laps. “Oh my _god_ , I’m _so_ sorry- here, wait,” Grabbing a cloth napkin and dabbing at the woman, “I’m _so_ very sorry, really.”  
  
    Logan bit his lip to keep from laughing, and tried to look as equally falsely apologetic.   
  
    “Very, __very sorry, ma’am,” he spoke to the woman, and caught Veronica softly by the elbow. “Time to go?” 


	4. When The Moon Hits Your Eye

     “So, is this where you take all your conquests?” Veronica beamed up at Logan, and Freddy-the-limo-driver tried to mask his chuckle as a sharp exhale. Nodding slowly, Veronica slipped her feet out of her heels, squishing her toes in the sand, nonetheless. They were at the edge of the beach, finally alone (except Freddy) and Veronica just wanted to wade into the moonlit water up to her ankles. She didn’t, though. She just slipped off her shoes and stepped onto the sand, wading out of Freddy’s earshot from where he stood with the car. “It’s beautiful, you know that.”   
  
    “It really is,” Logan answered her, but the beach in the moonlight was far from his mind, watching her. Hands in his pockets, Logan wasn’t sure what the next move was. He’d asked Freddy to stop because he hadn’t decided yet; if he was going to ask her to come over or not. To come home with him. Liking her, liking this Veronica Mars from Neptune, sort of threw Logan for a loop. Above all, on Clarence’s Things Not To Do list, Logan was positive Taking Her Home was written in big, red, _do not do_ ink. But her short, wavy, blonde hair was shining, like actually shining, in the moonlight, and her dress still caught his breath. If Hollywood had scripted her she wouldn’t have been so enticing.   
  
    “Are…the stories; is any of that stuff _true_ , about you?” Veronica willed her hands at her sides, to keep from touching him; from touching his hands, or his collar, or the ends of his jacket, she just had to _not_ touch him. “You know, from the… tabloids.” She wanted to be gladder for it, when the air changed between them, when his face sunk with guilt, but mostly it made Veronica sad.   
  
    “Some of it’s… not 100% false.” Running his hand through his hair, Logan almost laughed; for a second he almost laughed. Because while he had been standing there, watching her, trying to decide whether or not he should take her home with him, he realized she’d been standing there, deciding that she wouldn’t go. She saw his hard-partying reputation as a reason she couldn’t have a good time with him, not as an invitation she could score to the party. And for that, Logan really almost had to laugh. He’s been known, on occasion, to indulge in a certain kind of lifestyle, and for almost the entirety of his life, Logan managed to indulge himself without tapping into a deep well of self-shame. Veronica could stop drilling though, she’d struck oil, and for a second Logan questioned some of the life decisions that landed him in situations like the Hollywood Reporter cover. The rumors of drinking, partying, the anonymous or nearly-anonymous sex; Logan nodded.  Some of it _wasn’t_ 100% false.   
  
    Slowly nodding, Veronica closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the waves lap up against the dark shore. “I figured,” she spoke softly, hoping she didn’t sound judgemental, or even just disappointed, Veronica reminded herself she was only even there at all because she won a _raffle_ she hadn’t even entered. “Tonight was nice, right? Did I imagine that?” She looked up at him, her eyes too, shining in the moon’s light.   
  
    “Really nice,” he nodded, agreeing with her, and still matching her mournful tone, “Not your imagination.”   
  
    Taking a step closer to Logan, Veronica saw that Freddy had turned away from where they were. They were officially alone, standing on the beach, in the perfect, cool, sea breeze, and she was barefoot, standing in the perfect moonlight with a guy who…  “It’s just that… I make a living, figuring out and documenting the ways people who love each other _hurt_ each other, and that’s not exactly a day job that lends itself conducive to long-term, or really _any_ relationships.” Almost whispering, Veronica didn’t shrink from the way Logan’s eyes were watching her then. Watching her lips move, watching when she blinked, sensing the jumps in her pulse, the skips in her heartbeat. “And you have… a life, that’s so _ripe_ with imaginative, inventive ways for me to get hurt. _If_ this was a real date, of course.”   
  
    “If.” Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, Logan nodded. “Right, if this was a real date.”   
  
    A moment passed, with Veronica just looking up at him, her eyes blue and clear, and his eyes just staring back, hard. And then Veronica surprised them both, by leaning up and in, and kissing him softly, just pressing her lips to his. When she pulled away from the kiss, when she stepped back from him, Veronica kept her eyes down and picked up her heels from the beach sand.   
  
    “I should be getting back to the hotel.” Veronica hurried back to the limo trying not to look back at him, still pressing her lips together, remembering the taste of him.   
  
    It took Logan what felt like a very long second to come back to his own body from outer space, and realize what just happened. She’d kissed him, and then almost literally ran off back to Freddy. He followed her eventually, dutifully, because what else could he do? Even when she’d been sitting in that restaurant booth with him, Veronica Mars was always out of his reach; he just hadn’t realized it until then.   
  
    Her chin dropped to her chest, clutching her purse tightly to herself the whole ride back to the Neptune Grand. Logan was sure the more he looked at her, the more she folded in on herself. Still barefoot, and still beautiful, Logan’s pulse froze when the limo came to a stop; when the night was officially over.   
  
    “On the phone, Rhonda promised me I would be wowed,” Veronica shot him a small smile across the limo. “She wasn’t wrong, you know,” she admitted, picking up her shoes again. When Freddy swung the limo door open for her, Veronica took a deep breath, and decided this was the moment. This was the moment the carriage turned back into a pumpkin, the moment when every silly fantasy of actually enjoying this night came to an end.   
  
     “You understand, if I _don’t_ ask you for your phone number, my legs will break off with kicking myself?” Logan followed her out of the limo, liking how quiet the streets were so late at night.   
  
    “Well, that’s just not fair. Put the onus on _my_ legs to break off if I don’t give it to you.” Veronica glared, with only half her might; the other half was deciding what to do next. Digging in her purse for a second, Veronica pulled out a business card. “For if you ever want a taser in your security detail.” She offered that to him, smiling softly, standing on the curb.

 

    “What about if I want a friend?” Logan took the card, paying too much attention to how warm her fingers felt against his as he did so. Her face didn't look sold on the idea of being friends with him. Again, the irony wasn't lost on Logan; constantly, girls were throwing their numbers at him, throwing their underwear at him! This girl, he wouldn't have minded impressing, if he could only pin down a way to manage it.

 

    “Well.” Contemplating for a second, even at a time when her mind had to battle the proximity and sweetness and of his cologne, she nodded. “I guess there's no law against us just being friends.” She tried to squash the thought that she and Logan Echolls probably had somewhat differing definitions for the word friend. “Goodnight, Logan.”

 

    Turning from him, Veronica couldn't help feeling silly, for considering for even half a second that-

 

    “Veronica?” Logan's voice stopped her from walking away just yet, and that was all he'd hoped for, really. “Right before we become just friends, you think I could kiss you goodnight? Traditionally, that's the man's role, and you know, _you_ kissed _me_ back there, I just don't want you to think I _wouldn't_ have…” Smiling at her, Logan couldn't tell if this was the right moment- but if they never saw each other again, he wanted to make sure he got to kiss her, at least one last time.

 

    Stepping back to him, Veronica stared up at him again, half trying to understand him, and half trying to etch every detail about the way he was looking at her into her brain forever.

 

    “I have another confession,” she admitted, with his fingers tickling her shoulders, working their way up to her neck, her jaw, her chin.

 

    “That's not your real nose,” Logan found himself whispering, thumb tickling a trail from her chin to her nose and back.

 

    “What? Authenticity's an issue for you, isn't it?” Veronica shook her head, letting her gaze fall from his. “No, I have to tell you that I _hate_ your dad's movies, like every single of 'em, so you know, this would never work between us, I'd have to try watching them again, and the thing is they just aren't very good, I-”

 

    Cut off by his kiss, Veronica shut her eyes; felt her pulse quicken by his touch, felt his hands on her, felt his lips, warm against hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry? but you didn't think it'd be thaaaat easy, did you?


	5. What People Always Say

    Blonde hair splayed out on the pillow behind her, Veronica had kicked off her dress into a pile on the plush, rug floor, and promptly fallen backwards onto the luxury hotel bed. She was happy, happier than she’d been in a long time, and her mind felt… quieter, in a way. More peaceful, compared to the typical Friday night of Veronica Mars, chasing bad guys and narrowing leads. Even if she never saw or heard from Logan Echolls again, Veronica decided she’d forego tasering Wallace until his next indiscretion, because this time he’d been right.    
  
    When the hotel phone rang, just minutes after being left alone, Veronica figured it was Wallace, calling about whether or not she’d ordered the filet mignon or the strip steak.    
  
    “Hello?” Veronica still felt adrenaline keeping her pulse up, from that goodnight kiss. She was positive she wouldn’t hear from him again, though. It was just too complicated, they lived in different worlds, and he obviously had a dark side that manifested in alcohol-swirled fiascos and… Veronica rolled her eyes at herself. Letting herself have a nice night, once in awhile, didn’t have to be the moral crisis she was spinning it out to be. “Hello?” She asked again, hotel phone to her ear.    
  
    “Veronica?” Logan was still sunken into the back seat of the limo, feet up on the bench across from him. “Hey, it’s Logan.”   
  
    “Logan?” Relief that he was only over the phone, Veronica couldn’t help but react surprised. His voice on the line surprised her. “Is everything okay?”   
  
    Voice sounding taken aback over the line, Logan tried not to smile, anyway. “Hey, yeah, no everything’s great, really. I just… wanted a friend.” He paused, catching screams from outside the limo when the gates of his driveway came into view. “The concierge patched me through to your room. I only had to drop the Echolls’ name once,” he teased, and hoped she knew he was kidding, “I hope it’s okay I called; so soon and everything.”   
  
    Logan dialed the Neptune Grand before they pulled away, but hadn’t mustered the courage to press send immediately. Watching her walk into the hotel without him, Logan just didn’t want that to be the last time he ever saw Veronica Mars. So eventually, he pressed send.   
  
    Veronica still leaned back against the soft comforter of the bed, phone still pressed tight to her ear. “No, yeah, it’s fine, I’ll just tell this wild after-party to… you know, scram.” Grinning despite the whole thing, Veronica shook her head. She was cautious in her personal relationships. To a  _ fault _ , Wallace would say, she was cautious in her personal relationships. It’d taken them some serious life-threatening experiences together to bond for life, and Veronica wasn’t sure how a wild, recognizable Logan Echolls would play nicely in a covert situation.  Logan Echolls, outside of his space as the guy-she-had-free-dinner-with, even as a friend, was a serious deviation from Veronica’s abundant cautiousness. “You sure you’re okay?” The line was quiet on his side, Veronica could only hear faint breathing and the occasional dramatic sigh.    
  
    “Yeah,” Logan nodded, his forehead sliding against the glass of the window’s limo, leaving an ugly smudge. “I’ll let you get back to your wild party,” he smiled a little, picturing her in a hotel robe, alone, but not lonely. “I just wanted you to know…” Logan’s eyes flashed up at Freddy’s in the limo’s rearview mirror, as they pulled up to the Echolls’ front door, “Most people, when they always say they’ll keep in touch, or they’ll be friends-”   
  
    “Or they’ll call,” Veronica interjected, biting a thumbnail.    
  
    “Or they’ll call.” smiling, Logan nodded to himself, “Most people, they so rarely follow through, you know?” He licked his lips, listened to her breathing against the phone. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not most people.”    
  
    Barely holding back a laugh, Veronica couldn’t help but roll her eyes. God, why was he like this?   
  
    “Most people don’t carry around sunglasses for in case they get flooded by paparazzi. I get paid to be observant, and I did actually observe, that you are not like most people I know.” Closing her eyes, Veronica sighed; he would probably take that as a compliment, and she wasn’t entirely sure she meant it to be one.    
  
    “I’m like most people I know,” he admitted, and heard Freddy leave the driver’s seat. Alone, Logan sunk a little deeper into the backseat; slouched a little more. “Maybe a little better looking.” Logan suppressed a laugh, but he was sure she heard it anyway;  _ observant _ and all. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”    
  
    She’d surprised him by kissing him on the beach, but he promised himself he wasn’t just returning the favor. He wanted to see her again, he had to know if the good feeling he had about Veronica Mars could last longer than his usual hangover. If so, he thought she could be something worth pursuing,  _ somebody _ worth pursuing, and even the possibility was more than he’d felt in a long time.    
  
    “Tomorrow…” Veronica prepared herself to make the formal protest. One of them, was going to have to be the one to drag this ridiculous conversation into the harsh light of reality, and it apparently wasn’t going to be Logan Echolls. They couldn’t see each other again, they just couldn’t; it wouldn’t work, it wouldn’t be okay, and it just wasn’t smart. She knew that. And then Veronica remembered that tomorrow actually  _ was _ something, and she knew Logan wouldn’t be interested, and the whole thing would take care of itself. “Tomorrow’s actually my dad’s birthday. Every year, we have this cookout, with a barbecue and family and  _ cake _ , and this year I’m trying to healthify it a little, ‘cause we’re trying to work on being healthier, but… it’s tomorrow, so. Sorry, I’m busy.”    
  
     With exactly one second of careful consideration (Logan figured he wasn’t the careful consideration type), he decided, “You want a date to your dad’s birthday bash? I can bring wine, and wine’s good for the heart, you know.” Tapping his foot against the seat in front of him, the moments Veronica spent carefully considering, were a lot longer.    
  
    “You wanna meet my friends, my family?” Veronica’s voice caught in her throat, and she reminded herself how quickly this was getting out of hand, just how radically this Win-A-Date lobster dinner was going off the rails. “I-”   
  
    “Yeah, Veronica, I do.” Knowing he cut her off, right as she was about to say  _ I don’t think so, Logan  _ or  _ I think that’s a bad idea, Logan  _ or  _ I have an early wake-up call, please never call again, Logan _ , he assured himself that she felt it, too.  _ That kiss. _ All she needed was a little persuasion, a little hint that he was serious, that he wasn’t just some jackass actor’s jackass son. It took a little more self-assurance, to hope that he actually  _ wasn’t _ just some jackass actor’s jackass son. “Say, will Wallace be there? I can give him his fifty bucks back, you know; as a thank you.”    
  
    With a sigh, Veronica rolled her eyes, biting her lip. “My dad’s not gonna like you,” she teased, but there was a hint of seriousness.    
  
    “Right, he’s the one with the gun, right?”   
  
    “Goodnight, Logan.” Another sigh hissing through her teeth, Veronica couldn’t tell why she was still smiling. Showing up to her dad’s birthday with Logan Echolls from the cover of the Hollywood Reporter was probably going to give her father another stroke.    
  
    “Wait! How will I know where to go for the barbecue?” He asked, still unsure if she was legitimately inviting him along.    
  
    “Do you still have that business card I gave you?” Shaking her head, Veronica took his quiet for affirmation, “Then meet me at my office address, say six ‘o clock? Provided you  _ do _ have another vehicle, that is less conspicuous. Say something of a non-limousine variety?”    
  
    “You want the red corvette or the lime green?” Logan laughed when she groaned. “I’ll give Freddy the day off and ride my Schwinn over if that makes you happy.”   
  
    “Goodnight, Logan,” She repeated, and this time he didn’t fight her on it.    
  
    “Goodnight, friend.”


	6. The Idea of It

   When Logan heard his father’s knock, he just groaned at his reflection in the mirror. He was only half-dressed, hair still wet from the shower, and it was already four o’clock.    
  
    “Logan? Mrs. Navarro says you were alone up here this morning, and up early, too. No dice with the Win-A-Date girl then, huh? Maybe I should’ve been the face of that contest, after all.” Aaron strode in, arms folded across his chest, as Logan carefully finger-combed his wet hair in the mirror.    
  
    “Yeah, I don’t think you’re her type.” Self-disciplined enough only to keep himself to a half-grimace in the mirror, Logan mentally shuddered at the thought of his dad out with Veronica.   
  
    “Handsome, famous, rich?” Aaron scoffed, patting his son on the shoulder, in truly classic Aaron Echolls form.    
  
    “Married,” Logan smiled in the mirror, joking all the time, of course. His parents had an ‘arrangement,’ a secret deal, struck years ago when Lynn reached her breaking point but Aaron kept pushing. All but a sham, Logan’s publicly happy family life never lent itself to a Keeping-Up-With-The-Kardashians-style series, and for that at least, Logan was grateful.    
  
    “Sure, son,” Sounding anything  _ but  _ sure, Aaron noticed Logan was dressed to go out, and nearly ready. “On to the next, then?” Eyeing Veronica’s business card on Logan’s end-table, if he recognized the name he didn’t comment.   
  
    “Not exactly.” Face back to full-grimace, Logan reached for his toothbrush. “I’m actually seeing her again. No cameras, no contest, just-”   
  
    “Logan.” Aaron’s tone warned, like just the idea of it was something to stay away from.    
  
    “It’s a just a barbecue out in Neptune; no publicity stunts, just me, her, and maybe all her family.” Thinking about that finally, Logan was a little nervous. He hadn’t met a date’s parents in… well, since he’d had a real girlfriend, some time ago. Smoothing the sleeves of his sportcoat, Logan figured he had a good two-day streak going, of being a good, respectable, nice person, and he wanted to keep the feeling going.   
  


* * *

  
  
    “Okay, honey, so we’re leaving here, picking up the tangy barbecue sauce on the way home, and then grill, baby, grill?” Keith sat on the arm of the couch, about ready to blow the whistle for quittin’ time, and get to the party.    
  
     “How about… You go, I’ll pick up the tangy barbecue, and then please never say  _ grill, baby, grill _ , to me ever again.” Kissing his cheek, Veronica hadn’t even started packing up for the end of the day, yet. She’d had two client meetings in the morning, tracked down one stolen car, and even managed to get her dad’s present just in the nick of time. The only thing Veronica felt unsure about was Logan Echolls.    
  
    “We carpooled this morning, honey,” Keith said it like he was reminding her, “So, I take the car and go home and fire up the grill, and you… walk to the grocery store, and take the bus home? C’mon, kiddo, let’s pack it up for today. Paul Sherman will still be cheating on his wife tomorrow.” He promised, folding up some old files for her.    
  
    “Nope, no bus,” Veronica braced herself for ripping off the band-aid, “I think I’ll have my date pick me up, if that’s alright with the birthday boy.” Asking without asking, Veronica kept her eyes on her laptop screen, organizing the day’s digital files, until she felt her dad’s impervious glare fall upon her. “Not… an actual  _ date _ , date, he’s a friend.  _ Just _ a friend.” They’d only known each other for a night, she tried to remind herself; it’d been a long night, and pleasant, but still. Just friends.    
  
    “Really? And I get to meet this friend?” Eyeing his favorite daughter with caution, Keith tried to remember the last time Veronica volunteered a look into her personal life unprompted.    
  
    “As long as you promise to behave.” Snapping her laptop closed and dismissing her dad, Veronica just hoped she could get Logan to agree to the same.    
  


* * *

  
  
    “So this is where the magic happens?” Logan wasn’t sure he was in the right place until he saw the Mars Investigations’ symbol on the glass door.   
  
    “Pixie spy magic, is what the plebeians call it, thank you very much. You’re early,” Veronica had been checking her watch every three minutes for the last half-hour since her dad left, but it was still only a quarter to six.   
  
    The office was a safe space for social calls, usually- it was her space, just without all the pesky, homey, personal touches of her actual home. Meeting at her office was a play at a casual, still a means to give Logan Echolls the room to back pedal out of a family barbecue. Logan’s fun-casual sportcoat and jeans didn’t look to Veronica like he was there to back pedal or cancel anything; he looked like he brought his A-game for her friends and family, and maybe for her, too. And she noticed his lack of sunglasses.  
  
    It was a smaller office than he pictured, more homey than he imagined. Papers and files and photos were on her desk, and her walls. She looked different, out of last night’s dress, with her hair straighter, less wavy. Dark jeans, and black combat boots, that Logan tried hard not to find too sexy, if they were just going to be friends.  
  
    “Did you take those?” He peeked around the half-open door to the back office, where along the wall Veronica had photos of her dad, and her dog, and a few casual shots from holidays and parties with other friends. Logan noticed she wasn’t in any of them, and assumed she shot them instead.   
  
    Nodding, Veronica pulled the door closed, cutting off his line of sight. He’d see most of them soon, anyway, and she was just about ready to go. “Kind of a hobby.” She waved her big camera at him, and then tucked it away into her desk.   
  
    “No kidding. No photoshoots at today’s shindig?” Logan had promised his dad no cameras, but it was Veronica’s family affair.   
  
    With an easy shrug, Veronica smiled, “My dad doesn’t want any more proof that he’s getting older. I think the bone-creaking is all the reminder he really needs.” Sliding her bag over her shoulder, Veronica nodded. “Ready to go? Do you mind if we stop for barbecue sauce? The tangy kind,” she added, trying to remember if she’d forgotten anything else.   
  
  It was so odd, she thought, locking the office door behind them. Logan Echolls, the man who’d graced the cover of tabloids, who’d attended the Oscars and movie premiers, who spent more money on a limo-and-driver for one night than Veronica made in a week; and he was just going to be casually crashing her dad’s birthday barbecue. _One for the books,_ Veronica thought, nervously, as she followed him out to the car, crossing her fingers that Freddy really wasn’t there waiting.   
       
  
     "Well, as long as it's the tangy kind," he smiled, and hoped it looked reassuring.


	7. Cheeseburgers in Paradise

   “So I’m hanging there, butt-ass naked, waiting for someone to help me down and no one will, when Veronica just  _ schwing _ -” Wallace mimed the flipping of a pocket knife, “whips out her little Swiss-Army-Barbie knife and cuts me down from the flagpole. Instant bonding agent.” Laughing, Wallace couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to tell that story; years after the trauma, it actually was pretty funny.    
  
    “You carried a  _ knife _ to high school? I’ve never actually  _ been _ to public school, but it sounds way more dangerous than the Breakfast Club lead me to believe.” Logan smiled, having a really hard time trying to picture Veronica Mars  _ tinier _ than she already was.    
  
    “Yeah, only when V’s around. Think less Breakfast Club, more Outsiders.” Wallace teased, giving Veronica a nudge.    
  
    Sitting around the picnic table, Veronica shook her head smiling, noticing that it’d taken all of two hours and a cheeseburger to have Logan, Wallace,  _ and _ her dad ganged up on her. The introductions had been a little awkward, since they’d already all known Logan’s name, and face. It was weird introducing a celebrity into your childhood home, to the people who were your family. But after the initial awkwardness, things had picked up normally, and Veronica was grateful her family was as incredible as it was. Everyone seemed to be on their best behavior, Back Up even settled on Logan’s feet to lay on, and things were going exceptionally well, until Logan had gone rogue on her, asking about what she was like as a kid.    
  
    “Be cool, Sodapop,” she winked at Wallace, “All I’m saying is, no one ever taped  _ me _ to a flagpole, and I don’t think it was  _ all  _ because of the knife.” Shrugging, Veronica collected the paper plates from the middle of the table, making room for the cake that was coming.    
  
    “So Logan, what’s it like having a movie star for a dad? I mean, my dad was pro-baseball, and on TV and stuff, but I’m pretty sure  _ Keith  _ is the only one who cares about where he is now.” Jackie smiled at Keith across the table, and then turned her attention back to Logan Echolls.   
  
    “The man is a  _ great _ , Jackie, oh- what do you kids know,” shaking his head, Keith conceded.    
  
    “What’s it like to have a movie star for a dad?” Logan played with the light-beer in his hands, elbows on the table, sport coat long discarded. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, he couldn’t remember the last time he went to a family party that was small, or intimate, or even home-cooked, and it was so remarkably comfortable it even took his attention away even from Veronica, at some moments. Being asked about his dad though, Logan saw tension on Veronica’s face, and wanted to ease it away. “There’s a scene in Peter Pan, where the audience has to clap to keep Tinkerbell alive,” Logan choked on a laugh, downing the last swig of his beer, “and living with Hollywood actors is a  _ lot _ like saving Tinkerbell over and over again, in my experience.” Flashing his eyes up to Veronica’s, as she came back to her seat, he saw her smiling again.    
  
    “Is that why you never went into acting?” Jackie asked, ignoring the look Veronica was shooting her from across the table.    
  
    “O _ kay _ , I think that’s enough interrogation for our Hollywood visitor, who wants cake?” Steadying herself with an arm on Logan’s shoulder, Veronica got back up, and went to bring the cake to the table.    
  
    “Hey, it’s okay, I guess I never went into acting cause I… never wanted to? And I don’t think I’d be very good at it.” Remembering what Veronica said about his dad’s movies, Logan was comfortable again.    
  
    “Nonsense,” Veronica shook her head, barely holding back a laugh, “We pulled a bump and spill, and you apologized  _ so _ sincerely, I half-believed you and it was my idea to do it.” Winking, she leaned over him, too close to him, lighting her dad’s birthday candles.    
  
    “Veronica!” Her dad went faux-outraged, and faux-embarrassed. “A bump and spill, honey? Really? Logan, I swear, I raised her better than bump and spills.”   
  
    “She had me do it in a five-star restaurant, Mr. Mars,” Logan laughed, looking back up at Veronica, “they deserved it, though, for eavesdropping, right?”    
  
    “Let’s just sing happy birthday,” Veronica prompted, and the table sang. Wallace, Jackie, Veronica, Logan, and Keith’s girlfriend Rebecca all sang a rousing rendition, capping it off with a hearty applause.    
  
    “I’ll cut, honey, we’ve heard too much about you and knives this barbecue.” Keith kissed his daughter’s forehead, and Veronica nodded.    
  
    “Wanna take a walk?” Tapping Logan’s shoulder, Veronica whispered down to him. She had to admit, she was impressed; he’d held his own with her small family, and everyone seemed to be having a good time.    
  
     “After cake, Veronica; no one needs to see you skipping dessert,” Keith served his daughter, and their special guest, cake. Homemade, with chocolate frosting, just a little crooked like everything else she baked.    
  
    “Man, she’s still talking about the cake she ordered  _ last _ night,” Wallace laughed, talking to Logan, but the whole table, too.    
  
    Guilty as charged, Veronica shrugged, and Logan couldn’t help but wonder what else Veronica had shared with Wallace about their date. Did she tell him about the beach? About the phone call? The whole table seemed close, as close as anyone Logan ever met, and it was as comforting as it was concerning. He really  _ hadn’t _ met any of his dates’ families, not in a really long time; and Logan couldn’t help but hope he was at least making a decent impression.    
  
    “It’s gonna be my new dessert hang-out, I don’t care  _ how _ many part-time jobs I have to get to afford it.” She laughed easily, pulling Logan from his chair, and tried to slip him away from Back Up.    
  
    In her childhood home, Veronica laughed when she realized last night’s limo wouldn’t fit in the entire apartment she’d lived in with her dad through high school and college.    
  
    “So, what do you think?” Veronica dropped his hand when they got to the living room, she hadn’t realized she’d pulled him all the way inside.    
  
    “It’s very… cute,” he decided, eyeing her high school graduation picture on the wall; blonde bangs hung over her right eyebrow, and she was smiling wide.    
  
    “I  _ meant _ the party,” shaking her head, Veronica released the breath she’d been holding. All day and night, Veronica had been nervous. Nervous that it wouldn’t go well, nervous that it would… but mostly, now that she was almost out and through, she felt different. “I’m glad you came, Logan. It’s been a long time since I haven’t had to fifth-wheel one of these.” She liked it, having someone to smile across the table at, having someone look to her during the sweet moments, in their own secret way.    
  
    “They’re… really incredible people, Veronica, I’m glad you let me come. This is where you grew up?” Logan asked, still preoccupied with the Mars family living room.    
  
    Nodding, Veronica tilted her head, for him to follow her down the hall. “Now, I’m not just showing you this because you’re a VIP, but you should know not many people get past  _ these _ velvet ropes.” Welcoming him into her childhood bedroom, Veronica remembered the hard days of high school and college she’d spent on the floor, in her bed… making fake death certificates, or minting her and Wallace fake IDs. “Oh, if these walls could talk,” Patting the wall of her bedroom, Veronica teased him, only because he looked so interested.    
  
   “Hmm. No Aaron Echolls poster? I guess you weren’t just trying to impress me by denying your fanclub membership?” Teasing her back, Logan couldn’t help but wandering closer to her, leaning in. She was like a magnet, drawing him to her.    
  
    “Impress you?” A loud laugh escaped her, before she shook her head. “I didn’t tell you in the restaurant because I figured you’d bump-and-spill _ me. _ Only less  _ bump _ and  _ spill _ and more… throwing water in my face? You don’t care that I hate your dad’s entire filmography? Well, to be fair, I only hate the ones I’ve seen.” Feeling comfortable, Veronica let him come closer, just inches away from her, and realized how genuinely he was smirking at her.    
  
    “Today was nice, right? It wasn’t just my imagination?” He asked, reprising their moment on the beach from the night before. It’d only been a day, Logan blinked at himself; he barely remembered what came before Veronica. Especially the girls.    
  
    “Not just your imagination. My dad didn’t even ask to show you his gun collection, which means he doesn’t actually actively  _ dislike _ you, which is a nod in your favor.” Barely keeping herself from touching him, Veronica didn’t know what it was. What it was about him that made him look so comfortable everywhere. In the restaurant, in the limo, in her backyard barbecue. She liked it, though. Envied it even, how easy he made it look, how effortless and graceful.    
  
    “Veronica Mars, do you wanna get out of here?” Nearly holding his breath, Logan genuinely was unsure of how she’d respond. When she smiled, his breath came easily. 


	8. Reconciliation

    “So, where to?” Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Logan’s brain wanted to make the jump back to his place, or her place, or fuck, even her kitchen floor somewhere, but he was afraid of messing it up, of messing the whole thing up.    
  
    “Uh, we could try the beach, again?” Veronica swore she wasn’t licking her lips like  _ that, _ they just felt inexplicably dry, for some reason. Afraid of being a notch in Logan’s star-studded belt, and unsure if they were still just being  _ friends _ , Veronica wasn’t sure about him coming back to her place. She had wine in her place, and that felt dangerous.    
  
    Gone was last night’s limo, traded in for a convertible, plain, black, but still, you know… a convertible. But topless in Neptune,  _ well……  _ having a topless  _ car _ in Neptune,  _ well…  _   
  
   Veronica shook her head, with a frustrated sigh. Unable to put her finger on exactly what it  _ was _ about Logan that felt so enticing, so enchanting, so exhilarating, and yet so familiar.   
  
    Blonde hair rippling in the breeze beside him, Logan couldn’t shake the smirk from his face, pulling up to the beach.    
  
    “I was afraid of you, I think. Last night.” Veronica had spent half the night awake in her hotel room, trying to understand why she’d kissed him and then moved like the kiss had burned her, when it’d really been nice.    
  
    “I scare you?” Logan laughed, but wasn’t really sure what to make of that. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him, in any way. “You seem sort of… bulletproof, but  _ I  _ scare you?” Remembering the way she’d taken on the first wave of paparazzi, she’d been flawless and inspiring, definitely fearless. It was in her eyes, a quiet, mesmerizing defiance of sorts.   
  
    “You. Your taste in vehicles. Etc, etc.” Laughing off her nerves, Veronica didn’t know what to do at the beach after they’d got there.    
  
    “Is it the stories?” He asked quietly, noticing that the entire beach was theirs; like they had their own coast, their own ocean. Privacy was a luxury Logan couldn’t  _ buy _ most days, and it wasn’t because he couldn’t afford it. It occurred to him that maybe he’d just been looking for it in the wrong places.    
  
    “The tabloids?” Veronica looked to him, and tried not to smile about the look on his face. He hadn’t said it, but maybe she scared him, too. Shaking her head, Veronica tried to think of how to explain it, “Not the stories so much as…”  Making him wait a second for it, she figured out what she wanted to say, and unclipped her seatbelt, “reconciling  _ Hollywood-Reporter-cover _ you with…” her eyes glanced at him in the driver’s seat, giving him a once-over, “you know,  _ you _ you.” She laughed short.    
  
     “Hmm. I’m not sure anyone’s ever tried to reconcile me, so much.” Hands back on the steering wheel, Logan laughed, “Nobody’s who they pretend to be 100% of the time, right?” Catching himself sounding more serious than fully intended, Logan had an idea. “I  _ do _ have a confession to make,” he smiled when her face turned up at him, curious. “As  _ alright _ as tangy barbecue is,  _ honey _ barbecue, is really where it’s at.” Shrugging his surrender, Logan laughed when Veronica did, shaking his head.  “Let’s play a game.” He said, like he was issuing her a challenge.    
  
    “Like… a  _ Saw _ -type game?” She laughed, that phrase was never going to be usable again.    
  
    “A… reconciling-type game,” he volunteered, “five questions each, we’ll take turns asking whatever we wanna know about each other. Seriously, bring the heat, and if you don’t like what I have to say I promise I’ll never crash one of your family outings, again. Scouts honor.”   
  
   “You were a boy scout?” Veronica looked skeptical, and bought herself a minute to think. Out here at the ocean, playing emotional-strip-poker with a guy she’d been thinking about for two days straight.  _ Cause where’s the harm in that? _ Veronica doubted herself.    
  
    “Is that one of your questions?” Logan asked, just trying to pin down the face-journey she was on with her mouth twisting at him like that.    
  
    “No.” Veronica resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. “Are there any… you know,  _ boundaries _ to this game, Mr. Bring-the-Heat; I get paid to find out other people’s secrets.” She reminded him.    
  
    “No boundaries for me, I’ll answer anything you wanna ask, and I’ll answer honestly.  And no, I was never a boy scout,” he winked, “don’t worry, that one’s a freebie. But in exchange, I think I want to ask the first question?” Watching her still hesitating, biting her lip between white teeth, Logan waited her out. Patience, wasn’t always his strong suit, but he could wait for her; he  _ would _ wait for her, he felt it. And he liked it. When she gave him the tiniest of nods, paired with the tiniest of smiles, Logan knew she was ready. “So your dad’s great, aside from his atrocious taste in baseball teams and barbecue sauce, but what about your mom?”    
  
    When Veronica’s chin dropped, Logan wished he’d been a little more insistent about asking what her boundaries were.    
  
   Wincing, Veronica couldn’t think of the last time someone asked about her mom. “She took off, when I was in highschool,” Veronica remembered the last time she’d seen her mom, she’d kissed her goodbye for school, and that was it, “no warning, just poof, you know? My dad had to change jobs, and we moved into the apartment he lives in now, and Mom just… couldn’t handle it I guess, you know? I hear from her, once in awhile, usually around my birthday. I don’t even think it’s that she stopped loving us, you know, I know she loves me, but it just stopped being  _ enough  _ for her stick around for.” With a deep breath, Veronica smiled at him across the convertible’s console. “What’s that face, Echolls, what- you don’t think I can handle the  _ heat _ ?” She’d smoothed her palms down her jeans; her mom leaving was an old wound, nothing that would bleed fresh, even under a microscope.    
  
    “Hey, that was only round one,  _ Mars, _ ” Logan teased her back, and held his breath for his question. There wasn’t much about him that he could think of that wasn’t google-able, after all.    
  
    “Okay, given the option to have dinner with anyone, ever, who’d you pick, and why?” Veronica asked, wondering if celebrities had problems getting their dream dinner dates. If he wanted to have cheeseburgers with Hugh Hefner, didn’t they just have PR guys call other PR guys and stage a whole photo session?    
  
    “Hmm. Interesting. My grandmother, on my mom’s side. She died like twenty years ago, but she was awesome, you would’ve loved her. She’d get to a restaurant, sit down at a fancy table like last night’s, and then reach into her mouth and take out her teeth, just bam, dentures right on the cloth napkins. It always mortified my father, but she was hilarious. Yeah, my grandmother, Hattie.” Folding his hands in his lap, Logan remembered his twelfth birthday; he’d been staying with his grandmother while both of his parents were on set, and Hattie gave the babysitter the day off, and they went to the beach together, just the two of them. “What’s  _ that _ face,  _ Ronnie _ , you don’t think I have a sweet, introspective side?”   
  
    With a shrug, Veronica conceded, she hadn’t expected him to pick a person quite so sentimental. She wasn’t sure what kind of pull PR-scheduling guys had with the afterlife. “Fair enough; fire away,” she smirked, trying to gear up for anything.    
  
    “Uh, okay, let’s try a complete-the-sentence, fill-in-the-blank style, ready?” Eyebrows gone inquisitive, Logan reminded himself he was trying to keep this as fun as it was serious. “I, Veronica Mars, wish I had someone to share my….  _ Blank _ with.” He prompted, leaving Veronica to her thoughts for a second.    
  
    “Lemme think. I, Veronica Mars, wish I had someone to share my…” She repeated, thinking. “Stake-outs with.” She smiled. “ _ Some _ of them, anyway; don’t get me wrong, I have friends who come from time to time, when I really need them. And I  _ do _ like being out here alone, most nights. Every once in awhile, though…” Veronica trailed off, thinking about a few weeks ago, when she’d tailed a cheating husband to his wife’s sister’s house. The worst people she knew all had people to share their time with, share their lives with, and that was a weird thought to have when she was sitting out in her car in the shadows, by herself. “I just kinda wish I had someone to call once in awhile, maybe; when it gets too quiet out here,” she gestured to the streets of Neptune, her home away from home.    
  
    Logan nodded, and had to bite his tongue to keep from volunteering to be her late-night phone call. The  _ game _ was supposed to be about letting Veronica know him better, so she could see if she might want to know him  _ more _ . He didn’t want to push.    
  
    “It is  _ really _ quiet out here, huh?” He asked, looking out, past the beach, where the city lights ahead were still lit.    
  
    “ _ Hey, I’ll ask the questions here, bud,” _ Veronica pulled an accent that reminded Logan of old-timey detective-schtick movies. “Um, okay, pick a superpower.” Sort of cliche, Veronica still found herself genuinely curious, but Logan didn’t find himself even remotely stumped.    
  
    “Invisibility. Just,” Logan snapped his fingers, “invisible. No more screaming fans, no more stalkers, no more people coming up to me in line in the drug store when I’m trying to buy condoms.” Half-sheepish, Logan stayed the course. “It only takes one encounter like that to make you wish for invisibility, and I can’t even remember when my family wasn’t famous.” He didn’t mean to sound so sad about it, a lot of the time his family enjoyed perks other people didn’t because of their fame. But it definitely had it’s drawbacks, and  _ TMZ _ reporting about his preferring-ribbed-condoms on TV once had been a major drawback.    
  
    “Is it really that bad?” Veronica tried to picture it; walking her dog in her bathrobe, and having cameras on her. Buying tampons at the drug-store, and having people approach her. “Yeah, I guess that has to be pretty suffocating, especially when  _ you _ didn’t sign up for it.”  _ You can’t pick your parents, _ Veronica knew that as much as anyone.    
  
    “It has it’s perks, but privacy isn’t one of them. Besides, I didn’t know we were allowed follow ups,” With a smirk, Logan thought of his next question. “Okay, question three… hardest case you ever worked on?” Still eager to hear about her work, Logan realized he’d barely tapped the goldmine that was her being a private eye.    
  
    “Hardest for me,  _ personally _ or hardest to solve?” Eyes squinting a little, Veronica shook her head, “that’s okay, same answer I guess.” Huffing a breath, Veronica dusted off another old mental file, another ancient wound. “My best friend’s murder,” she swallowed the silly lump in her throat, and watched his face drop, almost comically. “It was about ten years ago, right before my mom took off, for those following along at home. It sounds more dramatic than it was,” she tried to backpedal, because seriously his face of concern was starting to concern her, “Drunk driver ran a red light, a hit-and-run so the guy had to be tracked down,” she explained. “It took two years but I caught the son of a bitch. High school graduation present to myself; you know, since I couldn’t afford a pony.” She teased herself into smiling, and his face eased a little bit. “I guess we should lighten up a little bit, huh?”   
  
    “Hey, I asked for the heat,” Logan tried to recover gracefully, but he was still a little stricken. “It was  _ supposed  _ to be a game, though,” he reminded her, trying not to laugh despite her whole story. “So you were what, sixteen? Hunting down drunk drivers?” Breaking the no follow-ups rule without a second thought, Logan couldn’t take his focus off Veronica. “I guess that explains why you carried a knife to high school?” He asked, half-joking.    
  
    “It really doesn’t,” Veronica grimaced, but Neptune High had it’s own stories. “My turn? Hmm. This doesn’t count as my question, but you  _ don’t _ drive drunk, do you?” The thought occurred to her by accident, that the guy that ended Lilly’s life had been a drunk guy, on his way home from a party at some rich club.    
  
    Stunned into silence for a second, Logan felt relief that at least he could spot a deal-breaker when he heard one. “Don’t tell me, you forgot about Freddy, already? He’s gonna be crushed, he really liked you.” Logan clicked his tongue in mock-shame, “I’m stupid when I’m drunk, but I’m not that stupid.” Far from lightening up, Logan touched his hand to hers on the center console, catching her pinky between his fingers, holding it softly. “Okay, your turn.”    
  
   “Okay, my turn, what is this, three?” Veronica looked to Logan, and nodded. “Alright, let’s see. Is there something you’ve dreamed about doing for a long time? Part two, why haven’t you done it?” Watching Logan squirm gave Veronica a little tickle of pleasure, she had to admit.    
  
    “Now  _ there’s _ the heat.” Logan smiled, “I didn’t lie to Jackie before, I’ve never considered acting,” he laughed, “for awhile I thought maybe I’d be a boxer or something, but it scared my mom. I thought about getting into writing, or honestly, lots of other things. Best private schooling money can buy, and mostly all they had to say about me included the phrase  _ untapped potential _ .” Shrugging, Logan wasn’t sure what to add, what he  _ could _ add. Across from him, she sat, smart, attractive, working since she was sixteen. He decided his resume left a lot to be desired, by comparison. “I figure there’s always time to figure out what I wanna do when I grow up,” he smiled slowly, joking.    
  
     Veronica wanted to ask, if that meant the partying was because he was unfulfilled or just bored, but she reminded herself it wasn’t her turn, anymore.    
  
    “Let’s see…” He wanted to ask if she’d always wanted to be a private detective, or if solving her best friend’s murder pushed her into a specific skill set, but Logan noticed her eyes hadn’t fully returned to him since that had come up. “Favorite ice cream; let’s keep it light.” His hand still touched hers, like they were school-kids or something, he just wanted to keep feeling her soft skin.    
  
    “Joke’s on you, I take my ice cream very seriously,” Veronica smiled, distracted by the way his fingers were tickling hers, “I consider it one of my favorite food groups, pyramid be damned. Cookie-dough’s a classic, and tough to beat, but Rocky Road has it’s moments where it’s absolutely vital, and I’ve never turned down a scoop of double-chocolate.” She’d try almost any ice cream once (except bubblegum) but Veronica definitely had her old-faithfuls. “With fudge obviously, and cherries if I’m being healthy.” Winking, Veronica nudged her shoulder against his, as a thank-you for  _ keeping it light. _ Slowly, Veronica came to the realization that in a startlingly short amount of time, she’d shared a lot of her life with Logan Echolls. Her family, some of her traumas, her favorite ice creams. They weren’t things you told a stranger, they weren’t stories to tell passersby, and yet, Veronica hadn’t been able to keep herself from sharing with him. “My turn.” She swallowed a heavy breath, “Why are you here, Logan?” She asked the question she’d been the most afraid to. “You haveta be honest, remember? It’s your game,” Reminding him with a soft, smile, Veronica brought her hand back into her own lap. “The Win-A-Date wasn’t your idea, and we had a nice time, but…” Braving a look at him, Veronica liked him, she could admit that, to herself. But she wanted to know what he was looking to get out of knowing her, out of knowing her family, out of knowing her favorite ice cream.    
  
    “Why I’m  _ here,”  _ Logan didn’t need clarification. Why was he on the beach, with her, in the middle of the night? He missed the electricity of her fingers the second she pulled her touch from his, and wasn’t that enough of a reason? “I want to be  _ here _ .” He met her eyes, and it spurred him on. “The Win-A-Date wasn’t your idea, either,” Logan reminded her, she hadn’t entered herself in the contest, after all. “I like talking to you and I like being around you, and yes, I like kissing you, but we don’t haveta-”   
  
    The sudden and loud  _ whoop _ of the Neptune Sheriff’s car pulling up next to them made Logan jump, and Veronica rolled her eyes. Lamb almost always did have incredibly inconvenient timing.    
  
    “Well, well, little Miss Veronica Mars,” Sheriff Lamb strode next to Logan’s car, leaning his hand on the top frame of the convertible. “This beach is closed after dusk, I know you’ve heard this before. What keeps you out so late after dark, Mars?”   
  
    “He does,” Veronica pointed to Logan, like the blame was on him, and Logan shot her a scandalized look. “We were just going though, Lamb, and I know they make you feel all manly, but there’s no need for the sirens.” Nodding slightly to Logan, Veronica smiled when he took his cues and turned the car’s key. “Time to go, Echolls,” she said, only to him. “I live around the corner, you can just drop me off,” she smiled softly, wondering what else Logan might’ve said if Lamb hadn’t shown up.    
  
    Dropping her off at her apartment nearby, and driving himself home, alone, Logan couldn’t help but smile. With any luck, she’d stop being scared of him, and he’d get to see her again; if only to finish their game.


	9. Backroom Poker, in That Dress

      “Honey, I didn’t see you all weekend, how was your little fundraiser dinner?” Lynn stretched her arms up around her son, kissing his cheek and then wiping the lipstick left there. Logan smiled, it was early in the day, and as much as he wasn’t a morning person, he preferred his mother’s company before five-o'clock-somewhere hit.   
  
    “What, the _Hollywood Reporter_ didn’t tell you?” Logan pulled back, genuinely laughing. He’d seen the pictures from his first date with Veronica online, the ones where she was wearing his sunglasses and holding his hand on the way to the limo. “She’s actually…” Trying to find a word that could succinctly yet sufficiently qualify Veronica was nearly impossible, he didn’t know why he’d started that sentence, and shook his head. “I’m going to try to see her again, tonight.” He was still working on a plan, for that.   
  
    “Again?” Lynn made a face that looked to Logan like he’d asked her to do calculus. “Three weeks ago, you attended two parties in the same night, and brought a different date to each..” She couldn’t _not_ laugh, it was ridiculous and made her think of her husband, and that made her sad so she had to laugh. “So, she’s special, huh?”   
  
    Running his hand through his hair, Logan wasn’t sure if he was done letting Veronica just be _his_ for a little. Of course she was special, she was magnetic, and beautiful, and smart but she was a world removed from Logan’s everyday life. Something just his, just for him, and that was a nice thought for the moment. Usually, his dates were only interested in his family, in his house, in his money, asking if they could have a part in his dad's new project, or a tour through his dad's bedroom. Veronica was different.  
  
    “Time for me to hit the showers,” he kissed his mother’s cheek, leaving her to speculate about his date with only her margarita.   


* * *

  
   She was still fixing her hair when she heard the doorbell, and the sound surprised her. Giving herself the once-over in the mirror, Veronica just hoped it wasn’t her dad at the door; he wasn’t going to like the dress she was wearing tonight.   
  
    “Logan?” With a slow blink, Veronica swung her door open and was surprised to see Logan Echolls standing outside her door.   
  
    “I swear I went by your office first, but I got no answer, and _obviously_ you’re busy and I should just-” Backing away from the door, Logan recognized the red dress cutting off at her mid-thighs as a sign he definitely should’ve called first.   
  
    “Come in, quick though, I have a job.” Veronica tugged him in the door by the wrist, almost-flattered by the way his eyes had a hard time leaving the hem of the dress. Mostly, that told her she was wearing the right number for tonight’s bust. “You know, those things poor people do for money,” she teased, when he said nothing, standing in her living room. “What are you, um, doing here?”   
  
    “You have a job that… makes you go out like that? God, what I’d give to be your boss.” Logan seemed unconvinced, but she was smiling up at him, crooked, like she had a big, master plan to carry out. “This wouldn’t be an _undercover_ job, would it?” He tried to follow the hints, the harsh make up, the red dress. It was a different Veronica than the one he recognized from her dad’s barbecue, or from even his limo. Completely mind-blowing, visual-wise, but the only thing recognizable was the flash in her eyes smiling at him while he was out of the loop.   
  
    “Not under-cover of much,” She winked, unable to let that joke slide by, but he wasn’t going to be teased out of her apartment. Sighing, she packed her tiny to-go purse with everything she knew she might need, “Perhaps a tiny little undercover job, yes. Low-level drug dealers’ hobby is underground poker games, it was the easiest way to cut off the head of his organization and make a little extra cash. And I’m my own boss, remember? It’s one of the only perks.” Withholding jobs from Duncan was how they got to their ultimatum, Veronica reminded herself; but maybe that just meant she hadn’t withheld enough from him. But Logan wasn’t Duncan, and they weren’t dating, and she really had to leave any minute.   
  
       “Take me with you?” Logan blurted out, “I could be the muscle,” he volunteered, his chest puffed slightly. He thought about what she’d said at the beach; the fill in the blank _thing_ she wanted to share with someone.   
  
    Considering it for a second, there were a lot of reasons why bringing Logan Echolls out into the field with her wouldn’t be a good idea, especially with that much of her legs showing, Veronica figured. “I don’t need muscle,” she laughed, and grabbed her car keys but paused, thinking about that. Maybe Logan could help in one way. “I could use a ride, though? Well, a ride home, actually.” Chewing her glossed lip, Veronica groaned. “Fine, you can come, follow me there, park around the corner,- look at me, look,” Veronica got serious for a second, “This isn’t the Sheriff’s department, where you get a complimentary wind-breaker and do a ride along. You need to know it could be dangerous; I know what I’m doing and you don’t,” she levelled with him, making him feel small even when he had ten inches on her.   
  
    Understanding _that_ made him a liability, Logan took a breath before deciding he should still go with her. After all, she needed a ride home. And he just didn’t scare so easily.   
  
    He nodded enthusiastically, “I trust you, and I’ll behave.” Crossing his heart, “Remember the bump-and-spill? This time, I’ll just watch and… do what you say,” he saw her face relax, if only a little. “I’ll follow you there, park around the corner, and do _exactly_ what you tell me.” Adrenaline already pumping, Logan followed her out of the apartment, realizing he hadn’t even dealt with the big deal of her letting him in her home, and now he was going to go out on a job with her.   
  
    Pulling up to the warehouse, Veronica left her car on the street and waited for Logan to walk over from parking his car around the corner.   
  
    “In case things go south, wait for my signal,” she whispered, dangerously close to him as they walked into the makeshift, underground poker club.   
  
    “What’s the signal?” He couldn’t help smiling, he really couldn’t help it.   
  
     “You’ll know it when you see it,” Veronica ordered a vodka-tonic from the bartender with a wink and a single, and handed it off to Logan, keeping her eyes on the room, making sure everything else was going according to the plan so far.   
  
    Sipping from the cool glass, Logan tried to hide a smile. “This is water,” he followed her to a corner of the place, trying to see what she was seeing in this particular crowd of people. He wasn’t sure what he should even be looking for.   
  
    “Guy in the black jacket with his back to the door, first table,” Veronica pressed herself into Logan’s side, almost touching her lips to his ear with how close she was talking, “that’s our guy. Excuse me for a sec, we’ve got about ten minutes til this is over and I still haveta do one tiny little thing.” Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, Veronica stalked away, towards Black Jacket, and left Logan in the corner, watching.   
  
    Taking a seat next to Black Jacket, Veronica smiled sweet, “Anybody wanna buy a girl in?” Turning her bright, baby blues on them, she patted Black Jacket’s arm and back flirtatiously when he put up her ante.   
  
    “I’m Joe Carney, sweetheart,” he smiled down to her, not at all in the sweet way. Joe’s lips were curved up predatorily, practically slobbering, and Logan just gripped his water harder from across the room. “Say, do you even know how to play poker?”   
  
    “Well… I am a little rusty,” Veronica feigned an unsure wince, one she exaggerated when she saw her hand. The guys at the table didn’t miss her face, and bet on her having a shitty hand. The look on her face had Logan relax a little, he was pretty sure she was playing them first, poker second. Reading the table quickly, Veronica won that hand and had the men all grumbling. It was hard to keep the smile from her cheeks when got them to play to her, easily.  
  
    Three hands later, once she’d cleaned the table (and the metaphorical floor) with them, she shuffled the poker pot to herself, with a smile.   
  
    “Guess I’m not _that_ rusty,” Veronica shrugged, but choked off her own laugh when Joe grabbed her arm with a rough pull.   
  
    “How did you do that, you little cheat-”   
  
    “Hey, you keep your hands off her,” Logan yelled, and crossed the room in a flash, cooled only by Veronica’s wide smile turned on him. The whole room had gone silent with watching them.   
  
    “Don’t be silly, Logan,” Veronica’s voice went falsely chipper, and she just continued collecting the money off the poker table. “Of course Mr. Carney can touch me, in fact, all you guys can, why don’t you line up, huh? Take numbers, it’ll be more organized that way.” When Carney stood and grabbed her arm again, Veronica whipped her taser from her purse and shoved it in his gut, making him sit back down in a hurry. “Now serving number two, so who’s next?” She smiled viciously, talking to the room that’d gone silent.   
  
     Impressed, and a little intimidated, Logan wasn’t sure what to do next, when he heard sirens.   
  
    “Anybody who moves to make a run for it, meets Mr. Sparky like Carney here just did,” Veronica spoke to the room, all pretense dropped, without looking up from the poker cash she was strapping into two, neat, rubber-banded piles.   
  
   “ _V,”_ the bartender called, impatient, and Veronica nodded, with an eyeroll.  Throwing him her car keys, and one of the bundles of cash, Veronica thanked him.   
  
      “Lamb’ll be here any second, but he won’t be looking for you,” she promised, and watched him go out the back door in a hurry.  Turning back to Logan, Veronica smiled. “I told you I didn’t need muscle,” she teased, “ _Weevil’s_ the muscle,” she tilted her head to the back door, and Logan blinked, trying to catch up.   
  
    When the front door burst open, the Sheriff’s department stormed in in full force, and Lamb made a beeline for Joe Carney.   
  
    “Mr. Carney, you wouldn’t be involved in an underground poker ring, now would you?” Lamb asked, his hands already going for the cuffs on his belt. For months, Lamb had been circling Carney, waiting for him to slip up so he could take him into custody. When Lamb got Veronica’s tip, he had to follow it.   
  
   “Check his pockets,” Veronica supplied, a little too handily for Lamb’s taste, since he glared, but reaching into Carney’s pockets Lamb pulled out bags of pills- uppers, downers, and the dirty in-betweens.   
  
    “Wow, how nice of you to bring the good stuff to a police raid, Mr. Carney,” Lamb cuffed him, and pulled him past Veronica.   
  
    She shared a smile with Logan over Carney’s protests that the drugs weren’t his, and that he had no idea how they’d gotten into his pockets. Remembering the way she’d been touching Carney, Logan guessed that he might not have actually put them in his pockets himself. Guys being arrested left and right were spitting taunts at her, threats of payback and vengeance like she’d never heard any of it before. Yawning big, Veronica rolled her eyes.   
  
    “Lamb’s got _this_ part,” Veronica squeezed Logan’s hand, and they left the warehouse for his car around the corner. “ _That’s_ why you don’t make kids push drugs for you, to their high school classmates.” She shrugged, with a cool smile.  Logan felt like he couldn’t stop staring at her, mostly because he couldn’t stop staring at her.   
  
    “Wanna debrief at my place?” Veronica offered quietly, and then laughed at Logan’s lopsided grin. “I guess that’s a yes, then.”   
  
    “If you have to _guess_ then you don’t know how crazy hot that was back there,” he admitted, shaking his head at her.   
  
    “Really? What is it about this dress?” Looking down at herself, Veronica tried to get it; Carney, Logan, even Weevil’s eyes had lingered on her too long.   
  
    “Not the dress,” Logan hissed a breath through his teeth, looking at her, again.


	10. Not-Friends

   Coming home from the sting, Veronica had a plan in mind. It was very structured and polite and austere, in the respect that none of her plan involved throwing Logan Echolls’ pants across the room. She’d planned on reiterating her desire to be friends, that they could sustain a relationship on a limited, and capped basis. She thought of examples, on the way back to her apartment. They could have dinner together, but they weren’t going to date. They could see each other, but they weren’t going to  _ see _ each other; especially not naked. Once they’d actually gotten to her apartment, Veronica’s plan had rapidly changed, on account of Logan just being… a  _ very _ good friend. And using his tongue, a lot. She had felt him watching her, almost the whole way home, intensely and unendingly looking at her, smiling at her, his hand grazing her knee. Once they’d gotten to her kitchen, she’d taken off her heels, made a joke he laughed at, and the plan went out the window when his lips touched hers, when his hands unzipped her dress, when she’d pulled him to her bedroom.    


* * *

  
        “You weren’t kidding, you really hated that dress, huh?” Playfully, Veronica elbowed Logan in the ribs, eyeing her discarded dress on her bedroom floor.   
  
     “About as much as you hated my pants,” Logan kissed her cheek, feeling like he earned that. He played with her fingers, their hands across her stomach.   
  
    “We were supposed to be _friends,”_ she shook her head, but couldn’t be disappointed; there was no edge to her chiding. She almost laughed. The bad thing about deviating from the original plan was, Veronica was faced with not knowing what came next in the script.   
  
    “I don’t wanna be friends with you,” Logan whispered, mouth still leaning against her bony shoulder, his lips still touching her, tickling her as they moved. “I like you, Veronica.” Sudden case of nudity and moon-eyes notwithstanding, Logan thought he was expressing himself pretty clearly.  
  
    Sighing, with her eyes on their hands still intertwined over her belly button, “I’m not… _naive_ , I feel like you should’ve gotten that memo by now.” Poker-tournament-drug-dealer-take-down, and all. Veronica half-blamed the adrenaline of the sting for messing up her friends-only plan. _Stupid adrenaline._ _Stupid Logan Echolls and his stupid… sexy sexiness._  
  
    “We… had a nice time,” she turned her head to give him a soft smile, meeting his eyes in her bed, “but… well, it’s not like I’m expecting you to hand over your class ring from high school.” Dropping his fingers from hers, Veronica decided she’d give herself five more minutes. Five more minutes to lay in her bed, with this particular man, have _this_ particular nice time before he moved on to the next one and she stayed in bed, alone.   
  
    Leaning forward in her bed, Logan’s face changed. Normally, with the 99% of women he found himself having _this_ post-game-podium-interview with, Logan found himself on the other side of the conversation, and the grass definitely wasn’t greener.  
  
    “What if I asked you to hold on to my class ring then, for safekeeping?” Logan didn’t actually _have_ a class ring, but as far as he was concerned that was definitely way to the side of the point. So far, they were having fun, getting to know each other and then _getting to know_ each other; like, horizontally. And everything pointed to there being more to Veronica that Logan _didn’t_ know yet, but desperately wanted to. Leaning down to tease her, Logan kissed her cheek again, “Come on darling, let’s go steady; we can share a milkshake, and you can write my name in hearts all over your binder, what do you say?”  
  
    “Logan…” With a smile and a sigh, Veronica slid out from underneath his arm, rolling to her side to look at him; she faced him, but she looked away, and pulled her bedspread around herself.   
  
    “Did I… do something, Veronica?” Asking quietly, Logan knew it’d been a long time since he was seriously interested in anything serious with a girl he just met, it was entirely possible he’d already messed it up. He just really hoped he hadn’t.   
  
   “Only every cocktail waitress you’ve ever met?” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and once it was, Veronica’s hand flew to her face. “I’m sorry,” she still couldn’t look at him. “I didn’t mean that.”  
  
     With a strangled laugh, Logan cleared his throat. “Yeah… you did,” he smiled in spite, thinking about all the headlines, all the cover-pieces, all the cocktail waitresses. .   
  
    “Yeah, I did.” Nodding, Veronica winced, and breathed a tiny sigh. “It’s just… if even _half_ of those things are true, it’s _fine_ if they are, it’s your life, Logan, do whatever- _who_ ever- you want, I just…” Folding her arms across her chest, Veronica sighed. “I’m just saying, I understand.”   
  
    Waiting for her to finish explaining, Logan blinked, “You… understand?” He nodded, slowly, trying to follow along, and clarify.   
  
    “Look, you’re a nice guy, a _lot_ nicer than anyone at the _Hollywood Reporter_ gives you credit for, but..” Taking a deep breath, Veronica wasn’t sure how to explain it to him. “You know, what? Let’s finish last night’s game.” She decided, and smiled. Shifting her weight away from his where they were still too close, she’d already maxed-out her five minutes and then some, but really she’d expected him to bolt already. “I’ll go; rhetorically speaking, how often would you say that you go out to dinner with someone, and then _not_ sleep with them that very night?” Chewing a thumbnail, Veronica just wanted to prove a point, to him and herself. She was just going to hold her nose through this, take a little pain then to escape a mega-hurt later.   
  
   “Rhetorically speaking… not very often.” Swallowing with some difficulty, Logan’s throat had gone dry, but he could see she was gearing up for something, and he wanted to know what. “Rhetorically speaking… does that matter? _We_ didn’t.. Well, you know, that very night.”   
  
    Letting  heavy sigh escape, Veronica closed her eyes for a second, and then opened them to his. “Exactly. That’s what I’m saying.”   
  
    “I have two questions left,” he pointed out, not at all liking where her line of questioning was going. “First of all, are you asking me if I only spent time with you yesterday and today because we didn’t sleep together the first night we met?” Tone soured and sullen, Logan took a steadying breath. “Second of all, are we having our first fight?”   
  
     Closing her eyes, turning her face into her pillow, Veronica groaned. “Go home, Logan. All I’m saying is, I release you. We had a good time, let’s not ruin it by pretending we’re more than strangers.” She peeked one eye up at him, still tucked into her pillow.   
  
    Touching her shoulder softly, Logan smiled at her when she rolled over to look at him fully.   
  
    “I thought we were at least friends. Now we’re _strangers,_ I’m actually _losing_ ground here.” Leaning down to kiss her, Logan’s lips touched Veronica’s slowly, tenderly, definitely unlike every time he’d ever kissed a cocktail waitress. “I’m gonna want to see you tomorrow,” he whispered, softly, like it was a promise, just to her. That it wasn’t about sex, about adding some notch to his belt, about anything else but her. “Isn’t that something we can discuss without assuming that having a meal with a woman brings out a cartoonish one-track-sex-crazed-Pavlovian-instinct in me? I _like_ you, Veronica Mars, and I haven’t spent three nights in a row with the same woman in a long time, that’s true, yes. But I’m not chasing sex with you,” he laughed against her shoulder, meeting her eyes, “I’m just chasing you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i can get one more chapter posted today/tomorrow- i will! otherwise... i'm gonna need a couple days off, going out of town this weekend and i'll be back monday with fresh silliness and probably some typos ;) all your comments are incredibly motivating, though and i hope this story is at least 5% fun to read.


	11. Ground Rules...

  “Honey, as glad as I am that you didn’t go alone...” Keith ran his hand across his forehead, the front page of Neptune’s local news still staring at him from his desk, “you took a celebrity? Isn’t that incredibly risky?”  
  
    It’s one of Veronica’s favorite moves of her dad’s; mask the concern in a rhetorical question, that opened the door for a very non-rhetorical counter where she explained herself, thoroughly and sometimes in multiple parts. Sighing at the paper on his desk, Veronica promised herself she was going to have to call some of her local journalism hounds. Neptune’s local press circuit was abuzz over a string of arrests involving drugs, gambling, and big Neptune names. Not to mention, a wink of recognition directed at Mars Investigations’ as a helping hand to the takedown. _More like recognition for holding Lamb’s hand,_ Veronica shook her head.  
  
    “It was practically a cocktail party- money, liquor, expensive suits; Logan Echolls was virtually born and bred to blend in there. Or possibly grown, genetically in a lab, like some sort of food or drug, maybe.” Veronica rolled her eyes at herself, thinking about her previous night with Logan, and all of her previous nights with Logan.  “Besides, you said yourself, he seems nice.”  
  
    Keith rested his elbows on the desk in front of him, “I said he seems _okay_ , that’s not nice. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, honey.”  
  
   Watching Logan at the barbecue, Keith didn’t sense anything overtly harmful about Logan other than his very public reputation. But that didn’t mean he was good enough to be fraternizing with Keith’s favorite daughter. Especially after the bad-luck in love and wrong-turns down Lonely Street that Veronica had been on, and the frequency with which Logan’s name came up in the tabloids.  
  
   “Oh, only _okay_ , my apologies for wildly misquoting you.” Veronica resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her father. “Besides, we talked this morning and I think there’s gonna be some, you know… ground rules.” Closing the stalker case on her desk from last week, Veronica had to swallow her smile at it. Logan wasn’t a stalker per se, he was just exceptionally persistent. Or perhaps bored and unemployed? Okay, _then_ she was smiling. And he wasn’t even _there_ to be teased. Practically a waste.  
  
     _Ground rules._ Like how Veronica was going to have to spend nights on her own, how Logan had a life to get back to that didn’t revolve around her, how they were just going to take things slowly and see if they went anywhere, low stakes until further notice. Veronica was sure Logan had been at least half-listening, while they had coffee at her kitchen table.  
  
    Going back to work, Veronica thought her dad put the whole Logan Echolls issue behind him, until she noticed her dad still staring at her, like he was frozen in time.  
  
    “Did you say you talked this _morning_ ?” Keith glared down at the paper on his desk about them being at the poker tournament, last _night._  
  
    “I’m staking out the Neptune Grand tonight, don’t forget. I’m a busy, solo, beaver tonight, Pops. No Logan Echolls escort, no phony poker table operations, and absolutely no fun for Veronica Mars.” Playing sympathetic, Veronica went back to her prep and hoped her dad would drop Logan Echolls as a topic of conversation. Catching Mr. Williams meeting his secretary at the Neptune Grand for what Veronica assumed wasn’t late night work, was going to be _her_ late night work. _Definitely not a diversion from a certain good-smelling, side-smirking dream-date-Ken fresh from the hills of Hollywood._  


* * *

  
       
     Tapping black-polished nails against the console of her car, Veronica didn’t love the limbo part of a case, of but she didn’t hate it, either. There was a sixth sense almost, after years of anticipation, where Veronica could almost set her watch by incoming excitement, like reaching for the phone just before it’s first ring. Waiting in the parking lot of the Neptune Grand, Veronica had her eyes peeled for almost an hour and a half, for a puke-green SUV with Mr. Williams’ plates to show up, when her sixth sense tingled. _Pixie spy magic in gear,_ she almost smiled to herself in the dark.  
  
     When a limo pulled up to the curb, Veronica was forced to think of Logan Echolls, and when Logan Echolls got out of the limo at the hotel, with company, Veronica’s thoughts about him shifted drastically, enough to incur a heady dose of mental whiplash.  
  
    A smiling, properly California-tanned, brunette woman on his arm, Logan was smiling, too, all the way into the hotels’ lobby, and Veronica could bet all the way up the elevator ride. Flexing her hands in her lap as she waited in the car and the limo drove away, Veronica had to fight the urge to duck down as it passed, hoping Freddy wasn’t Logan’s driver that night.  
  
    Smoothing her hands down her face, Veronica felt her cheeks hot, either with embarrassment or just anger or even a tiny green elf of jealousy, she couldn’t tell. Twenty four hours ago, Logan had been horizontal with her, in her bed, whispering lovesick-fortune-cookie-syrupy-sweet-bullshit lines into her ear.  
  
    Ground rule #1 had been that they spend some nights apart; Veronica reminded herself, with a spiteful purse of her lips. The bad taste in her mouth came on so quickly Veronica only noticed it when her nose was crinkled up.    
  
     It wasn’t that Logan had met someone else, or was in a hotelroom with someone else, Veronica promised herself that wasn’t what upset her. That had been exactly what she expected of him, Logan Echolls hadn’t ever disappointed her. She had disappointed herself. _Liking_ the lovesick-fortune-cookie-syrupy-sweet-bullshit lines, smiling at them, wanting them to be true and just for her… That’d been her mistake. Veronica shook her head in the reflecting glare of her rearview mirror. Even then, sitting in her car, with him upstairs, Veronica still wanted to believe there was an innocent explanation for him leading a beautiful woman into a hotel room. But she knew better than to believe in the existence of innocent explanations. _They’re probably just doing the same late-night work Mr. Williams was supposed to be here doing,_ Veronica mocked herself. She wasn’t that stupid, wasn’t that naive; she’d seen the play a hundred times, and knew the ending well, she could write it herself, and she practically had. Hadn’t she tried to tell him, that first night on the beach? And again, last night. She’d been sincere when she hadn’t expected him to be serious about any kind of long term relationship, and Veronica felt like she was seeing plenty of evidence that Logan hadn’t been at all as serious as he seemed just last night.  
  
   Biting a fingernail, Veronica decided to make herself do what she was supposed to be doing for Mrs. Williams. She decided to make herself get the proof, see the visual, look the hurt in the face and be finished with Logan Echolls before this whole thing got any worse, any more out of her control than it already was. Eyeing the twenty-four hour Starbucks across the street, and the fake glasses she kept in her purse, Veronica had a plan. Irrefutably, a bad idea, but that didn’t necessarily make it a bad plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back?? great weekend in dc w/ my dude. plenty of romantic inspiration that i really promise to put to good use in the chapters coming up. thanks for your patience and encouragement ;)


	12. Room 332

   With a to-go rack of Starbucks mochachinos in her hands, and her fake-glasses just a little off-kilter, Veronica tossed her hair into a messy ponytail and charged towards the Neptune Grand concierge, the perfect picture of stressed-out and over-worked.    
  
    “Hi, oh-my-god I hope you can help me, I’m Amber, my boss is so going to  _ fire _ me for the third time this week if I don’t get this upstairs to him, but I’m such a ditz I can’t remember what room I’m supposed to drop these off in, could you help me, please?” Veronica flashed her baby blues into puppy-dog mode, and counted on the concierge not knowing what hit him. “I’m…” Veronica pretended to look around for anyone listening, “Mr. Echolls’  _ assistant _ . Or, you know, former-assistant once I don’t deliver these coffees like  _ right  _ away. He’s already called me twice looking for me, I was too scared to ask the room number again. He’s really a good boss, it’s just sometimes I’m sort of .. slow I guess, you know? I would  _ love _ to not wear this coffee home tonight when I bring it to him late.”    
  
   When the hotel clerk, name-tagged  _ Joseph _ , looked down at his check-in book, Veronica mentally declared victory. Dishevelled, underpaid employee was becoming too safe a bet almost, with blue collar workers.    
  
    “That’s Room 332, let me just call up and-”   
  
    “That’s okay! He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s in a  _ meeting _ , I’m just dropping these by the door for him. Thank you so much  _ Joseph _ you’re really a life-saver,” Voice dripped compliments aplenty, Veronica quickly made her way to the elevator before Joseph had time to stop her, and she had time to rethink this side-mission.    
  
    Taking a deep breath in front of door number 332, Veronica reminded herself that Logan was always going to end up on the other side of the door with another girl. His life was like that, it just was, and a few good dinners and good sex wasn’t going to change anything for him, especially literally overnight. She’d already had her good dinner, her good sex, it wasn’t too late to just turn around, pretend she wasn’t mortified and never think about Logan Echolls again.    
  
    Except that Veronica needed to see it. Because anything less than seeing it, any dreamt-up visual or imagined scenario was going to drive her nuts, she needed the real, live and in-color full frontal confrontation of the end of her fuzzy, harmless feelings for Logan Echolls.    
  
   Knocking on the door, Veronica gulped a nervous breath, when the brunette from the limo answered the door, in a short, white bathrobe and little else, as far as Veronica could tell. Up close, Veronica recognized her. Kendall Casablancas, was some sort agent for Aaron Echolls, who occasionally drifted into gossip headlines for her bikini-ready body and proximity to celebrity. By all indications, Kendall seemed… decidedly  _ familiar _ with Logan, too.    
  
    “Oh! You must be room-service!” Kendall grinned, wide and false, recognizing the Win-A-Date girl instantly, and instantly she’d decided not to give her that satisfaction. For all Logan’s rambling about the tiny blonde, Kendall couldn’t eyeball what the fuss was about. Snatching the coffee from Veronica’s hand, Kendall grunted a quick thank you and thrust a dollar bill into the blonde’s hand, shutting the door with a slam.    
  
    Stunned, embarrassed, and enraged, Veronica swallowed and tried to think calmly. Cordially, even. Mostly, Veronica didn’t live her life attributing things to incompetence that could be interpreted as malice; especially when people smiled their too-bright teeth at her like Kendall had. Impatiently, Veronica knocked again, unsure of what she was going to say still.    
  
    “Oh  _ good _ , you’re back, you can take these plates for us.” Self-assured that Logan was in the shower, Kendall was impressed when the Win-A-Date girl knocked again, and maybe there was something to this girl after all.  _ Something to crush, _ Kendall smiled again, handing Veronica a handful of empty dinner plates, remnants of food sticking to the ceramic, aiming every minute to embarrass her into a pile of dust. “Thanks, again! Don’t come back,” Kendall’s voice turned cutting, and Veronica didn’t have to think one second longer to know that she wouldn’t be coming back.    
  
   The dinner had been a stupid idea, Logan Echolls had been a mistake, and Veronica dumped the dishes at the base of the hotel room door before high-tailing it back to the safety, solitude, and anonymity of her car. The only thing more embarrassing than being mistaken for hotel staff when she’d been Logan’s last-night conquest, was the feeling that she’d die if Logan saw her standing there in his doorway, his dirty dishes barely dropped from her hands.    
  
    Ignoring the stray tear that came to her eye, Veronica drove home without the radio, and without catching Mr. Williams in the act. Mrs.Williams was going to have to wait for her proof, where Veronica climbed into her bed, alone, but fully discontented by the truth. She’d known him less than a week, they lived in completely separate worlds, and it’d been fun while it lasted. Pretending like Logan Echolls could’ve been anything else but a short-term, not-friend, had been naive, and Veronica needed to pride herself on not being naive. 


	13. Leave a Message

     About a half hour after she'd torn out of the Neptune Grand, Veronica's cell started ringing. Three days, and double-digit missed calls later, Veronica's phone rang yet again.

 

    Getting to the memorized-voicemail portion of calling Veronica Mars, Logan huffed a sigh at the consequent beep, and hung up the call. At first, Logan had been concerned when Veronica didn't answer; he'd seen Veronica Mars spy-in-action, and her invisible-ink pen and decoder-ring set came with enemies he witnessed first hand. But after three days of voicemails, Logan was pretty sure he was just getting the cold-shoulder brush-off move without so much as a 'ttyl!' departure text.

 

    Of course, Logan only recognized the move because it was a regular in his repertoire, and boy, was the grass chillier on the other side of that cold shoulder. But when Logan pulled the plug on his relationships or non-relationships, he swore he always had a reason. Figuring out Veronica’s reasoning was the migraine-inducing part of his one-sided game of phone tag.

 

    Differing scenarios playing in Logan's head offered him varying levels of little-to-no comfort.

 

   Option group A) was the number he'd been calling wasn't hers, or other phone-trouble related issues. Technical failures he could stomach. There were always longhand letters, or perhaps smoke signals as back-up forms of communication. He could always try email.

 

    Option group B) the alternative, was the Veronica was perfectly communicable, she just didn't want to talk to him, singularly. The idea that he could've done something so irreparably terrible wasn't exactly far-fetched, but he thought he'd been watching his steps all week.

 

    Showing up unannounced at Veronica's doorstep had worked the one time, and it was an idea Logan played with trying again. The time it’d worked, he'd even won himself the VIP behind-the-scenes look at the investigative sides of Veronica. But Logan figured showing up at Veronica's door after ten unanswered phone calls, was probably only going to get him the behind-the-scenes look at what it's like to be tasered. Repeatedly.

 

    But what had changed?

 

    Logan hadn't even been in the press so much that week- his nose was clear, from where he could see it on his face. His father had been given the new role in another big blockbuster, the Win-A-Date did it's job for Aaron, but of course it would've had to. The only piece missing was Veronica, and Logan had to physically drop his phone to keep from calling again.

 

    He'd been at the Neptune Grand, to celebrate his dad's new part, with Kendall Casablancas, Clarence Weidman, and of course, tinkerbell himself, his father. Even before dinner, Kendall had been orchestrating an attempt to rekindle something between them that had flickered out years ago, by picking Logan up with a limo, giving him a ride, and even setting him up in the hotel. He'd had to shower before dinner to get a minute away from her, and it'd only seemed to encourage her advances. Not to mention, it didn't escape Logan's attention the way she had been all shades of green every time anyone at dinner mentioned the Win-A-Date PR move that got the positive Echolls press to boost Aaron's new gig. Dinner had been as excruciating as he expected, Logan faked a stomach ache to get out of dessert and away from Kendall, and when Logan called Veronica to come save the night in his empty hotel room after dinner, he'd started getting her voicemail.

 

    Was eleven a lucky number? Logan figured he should try his luck, and picked up his phone and hit send on the call, half-heartedly promising himself mentally this was the last one.

  


    Across the desk, Wallace heard Veronica's cell phone buzzing again, for what he counted was the third time that day.

 

    "Again? This boy has something urgent he needs to tell you, V, like. He has the clap, or something," Wallace shook his head. Bringing Veronica lunch to her office, Wallace lingered long after the moo-shu pork had gone cold, trying to piece out exactly what'd happened between her and Logan Echolls. He'd kind of liked the guy, and he'd been the one who entered Veronica in the Win-A-Date. But then she was ignoring his calls, and Wallace bet Veronica had a reason to.

  
    "I'm honestly surprised he's not bored yet. You _know_ my outgoing voicemail message, it's nothing inspirational or interesting, just _leave a message,_ and he keeps not following instructions." She shrugged, days after the incident with Kendall Casablancas, Veronica almost felt better about the whole thing. Really, Kendall had done her a favor; if Logan had answered the door they would've had to do a whole awkward explanation, and Veronica swore she was glad it was over with. Logan would get bored, he'd keep moving, and so would Veronica. That was just how things had to be. Of course, she was the tiniest bit curious. Curious about what he was dying to tell her, curious about what he could possibly say, but. Just curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) probably only one posting tonight, but at least we all know he wasn't "with" kendall. well, v doesn't, but shh. thanks!


	14. Interfering

    Well into her next case, Veronica hadn’t forgotten about Logan Echolls just because her phone stopped ringing. She’d washed her sheets, thanks to Wallace’s _clap_ comment, she’d sworn off chocolate cake as a reminder of the Win-A-Date, she even forbid herself to follow clients and suspects to the Neptune Grand. But two weeks after seeing Logan there, and picking up his room service leftovers, Veronica was back at Neptune’s finest, sitting at the hotel bar in a backless dress, waiting for her client’s husband to come fall for the dreaded honeypot. It was a two thousand dollar payday, Logan Echolls or no Logan Echolls, Veronica made her heeled feet _march_ into that bar.   
  
   Swirling the straw around the glass of her diet coke, Veronica thought about the suite she’d stayed in just upstairs. About how two thousand dollars wouldn’t have even paid for the rug on the suite’s floor. Shaking her head, Veronica sipped from the straw and looked expectantly around the bar for Mr. Picarrino. She was still early, he wasn’t supposed to meet her for their date until eight-thirty, and it was only eight-fifteen. From afar, the honeypot’s a classic, a go-to move in faux-espionage and twenty-first century take downs. From up close, Veronica was just sitting at a bar, playing the part of bait, with an audio recorder in her purse.   
  
    “Veronica?” A cool hand against her exposed shoulder-blade made Veronica jump on her barstool, and all  of a sudden Logan Echolls was impossible to forget. “It’s… been awhile. What are you-” _doing here,_ Logan read the dress, and the diet coke and finished computing. “Are you working right now?”   
  
    Out of the corner of his eye, Logan saw another woman he thought recognized across the bar- a reporter who used to follow his dad around until the restraining order kicked her back forty yards. But Logan had spotted a blonde at the bar first, and couldn’t resist hoping he’d finally run into _her-_ and he had.   
  
    “As a matter of fact,” Veronica looked around Logan, checking  for Harry Picarrino, and kept her eyes down. “I need you to leave, now.” Voice measured, but certain, Veronica sifted bangs through her fingers and looked up at Logan, finally.   
  
   “Of course, the last thing I want is to run interference,” Logan wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic even as he was saying it, because the _last_ thing he wanted to do was leave her alone at a bar to meet some other guy, job or not. It’d been weeks, and suddenly face to face with Veronica, Logan couldn’t believe his own idiocy that he had ever worked out what to say to her. What to _ask_ about why she disappeared, where she went. “Did I… _do_ something, Veronica?”   
  
   Meeting her eyes earnestly, Logan thought he saw something like anger, or fear, or maybe she just wanted to throw her drink at him, but something behind him stole her attention as quickly as it came.   
  
    “I’m _working,”_ She whispered in a harsh hush, pushing past him off her stool, towards the door Harry just walked through looking for her. “Harry, right?” Veronica greeted the past-middle-aged man smiling crookedly at her. _In his pictures he was bald,_ Veronica had to try to snort the laugh at the rug on Picarrino’s head, Logan Echolls still in her periphery was sobering and distracting all in the same instance. “I’m Sarah,” she smiled hard at Harry.   
  
   “ _Harry,_  was it?” Logan stepped between them, a crisp, white-toothed smile planted across his face shaking the man’s hand. “ _Well_ , your left hand ring finger has a tan-line, Harry, and something tells me your wife didn’t recently die.” Smile never leaving his lips, Logan talked close to the man, and turned his smile to Veronica, as well.   
  
    “That’s none of your _business,_ ” Veronica hissed from her equally-false smile. “You said you had to be going, remember? That you didn’t want to _interfere.”_ She was going to kick two-thousand dollars out of Logan Echolls’ butt if Harry left this hotel without inviting her upstairs. That was the plan, emptily and shamelessly flirt, smile at him til her cheeks hurt, and then when he made the offer to get a room, politely decline and send the audio file to his wife at home. Logan Echolls standing between her and Harry told Veronica that once again, she was going to have to adjust her plans because of Logan. “Unless… Harry, maybe you’d like to take this party someplace a little more… private.” Eyes shooting daggers at Logan, Veronica kept her smile sweet for Harry.   
  
    For his part, Harry didn’t seem certain of what to do, or what exactly he was witnessing.   
  
   “Tell you what, Harry,” Logan was smiling uncomfortably again, “take my hotel room. It’s paid for til tomorrow, order all the room service and dirty movies you want, and let me talk to Sarah alone for five minutes and then I’ll send her right up.” Like he was bartering at a farmer’s market, Logan offered his room key with a handshake, and pointedly ignored Veronica’s glare. “With champagne,” he saw Harry’s resignation, and sweetened the pot.   
  
    “Well. Five minutes, I guess. I’ll be upstairs, _waiting._ ” Harry nodded, taking the room key, still confused but shrugging all the way to the upstairs elevator.   
  
    With Harry taken care of, Logan turned back to Veronica only to realize she was storming right out of the Neptune Grand, as fast as her heels would take her.   
  
   “Hey, wait up,” he called after her, right behind her, “I just wrote a blank check for five minutes of your undivided attention,” he tried to joke, but Veronica’s face didn’t move a twitch closer to cordial.   
  
    “Well, you know what they say,” Veronica kept walking, setting her pace quick all the way back to her car, “there are some things money can’t buy. My attention, first of all, and apparently a _dictionary_ because in it, right under _interference_ is a big, long video of what you just did.” _Fine,_ Veronica technically had a usable tape in her purse, a soundbite of Mr. Picarrino agreeing to meet _Sarah_ in a hotel room. Digging in her purse for her car keys, Veronica figured that just wasn’t the point.   
  
    “I’m _sorry_ I ruined your whole Sarah-schtick. Cheating husband?” Logan asked, resisting the urge to lean on her car when they got to it.   
  
    “Do they make any other kind?” Tone tasting smart even to herself, Veronica was about ready for this unpleasant night/encounter/period of her life to be done. “You know, there is just one thing I’ve been wanting to ask you.”   
  
    Pleasantly surprised despite knowing he should’ve been on edge, Logan leaned closer, admiring the glare in her eye. “Anything. And yes, this is my real nose.”   
  
    Expression souring further, Veronica rolled her eyes, “Cute. That line you used, _I’m not chasing sex with you, I’m just chasing you,_ does that _always_ work for you or was I the exception in at least that regard? Follow up, did you crawl out of my bed, _straight_ into Kendall Casablancas’ or was there a palette cleanser between meals?” Switching her heels for the zip-up boots in her trunk, Veronica made sure that she kept moving; torn between standing there and listening to him stutter, and just driving away, clean into the Neptune night. “No, you know what I _really_ want to know,” opening her driver door, Veronica paused, with her cheeks hot and her eyes just promising the threat of angry tears, she took a deep breath, “is _why_ \- when I said, _hey, Logan, I’m cool with you being a Hollywood casanova, we don’t haveta get our feelings involved just because we slept together,_ and _you_ got all mushy about liking me, and wanting to be _friends,_ I mean - _why_ with the hard sell if you were just gonna-” Thinking about Kendall Casablancas in a too-short bathrobe made Veronica see red all over again, just for being so stupid, and she shook her head.   
  
    “Veronica, I’m asking you this from the bottom of my heart,” Logan’s expression sobered, “what the fuck are you talking about? Me and Kendall haven’t slept together in like two years, and it wasn’t a _hard sell_ ,” he tried not to get indignant, but _this_ was what she thought of him? “I _do_ like you, and _you’re_  the one who stopped calling me back.”   
  
    Dropping her chin, Veronica sighed. “I _talked_ to Kendall.” Grip on her car’s door-frame tightening, with her knuckles gone white, Veronica shook her head. “I was working here, the night I _stopped calling you back,_ ” she almost choked on a laugh, “I _saw_ you get out of the limo with Kendall and _then_ she answered your hotel room door in a bathrobe and handed me your used room service plates. Do they only make bathrobes in kid sizes, or does she just shop at like a Baby Gap? And by the way, she’s a shitty tipper.” Flicking hair from her face, Veronica wanted to laugh that Logan had the audacity to look surprised. To look shocked, taken aback, like this was all brand new information.   
  
    “She did what? Veronica, I swear I would never hook up with Kendall again, we were here for an Aaron Echolls’ pep-rally-dinner and I-”   
  
    “What do you think Harry upstairs is gonna tell his wife when he gets home tonight and she’s waiting with an audio file of him agreeing to wait in a hotel room for another woman.” Veronica set her jaw with a tight smile, “He’s gonna go home tonight, and say, but _honey, I swear I was there for a dinner,_ and I don’t know if Mrs.Picarrino’s going to believe him but the jury’s back on you.” Veronica saved a soft smile for her goodbye, something less scathing, more sad. “Your five minute’s is up, Logan.” Getting in the car, Veronica turned the key like it was a reset button. Her life was resetting, to a time before a stupid dinner with Logan Echolls that led to her being embarrassed, twice now, in the Neptune Grand parking lot.   
  
    “Kendall’s on Team Aaron, Veronica. She’s part of the staff that devised the whole Win-A-Date scenario; she definitely knows who you are, and that you aren’t room service. And I never saw her in a toddler-sized bathrobe, for what it’s worth.” Talking down to the glass of her car window, Logan stood aside when Veronica pulled out of the parking lot without another word.


	15. A Lesson in V

    “Explain to me why I’m in a cafe in Gold Coast instead of at the playground with my daughter,” Weevil drank what he guessed was an eight-dollar, just-alright coffee. “My grandmother can stand you, at least compared to your daddy, and she said you seemed… _muy desesperado,”_ Lips in a straight line with his eyes big and mocking, Weevil waited.   
  
    His grandmother loved Veronica, Weevil knew that. Why she had so much sympathy for the rich, white kid who couldn't even clean up after himself, Weevil understood less.

 

   “ _Wait,_ Papa Weevil?? You're Valentina’s _dad;_ your grandmother brings her around once in awhile. Valentina likes me,” Logan pointed out, and felt it could only be a good thing.

 

   “You give her cookies, Echolls, she'd like you no matter what,” Weevil shook his head. “Veronica's a harsher judge of character than Valentina, but cookies might merit a redemptive moment, you know. That's what you wanna know, isn't it? What you can do?”  
  
    “I need your help,” Logan started, conceding a nod.   
  
     What started as a frustrated rant about Kendall to his empty house, turned into a therapeutic chat with Letty Navarro, and that was when Logan realized why  Veronica’s _muscle_ , Weevil, looked so familiar. Mrs. Navarro’s grandson was Veronica’s friend, and Logan wasn’t too embarrassed to ask for Letty's help, and apparently, Weevil’s.   
  
    “Wow, I think I just caught a whiff of Veronica’s world,”  Weevil blinked, “go on.” The client meetings he didn’t sit it on, but Weevil knew Veronica heard pleas for favors from every direction on a daily basis. Hell, sometimes he’d been that desperate voice, asking V for a second chance.   
  
    “What do I haveta do to get Veronica to be able to look at me, again? Or maybe even get a call back,” Logan pushed his coffee between his palms, thinking about the way Veronica left him in the hotel parking lot. He’d left messages for Kendall, too, none of them nice. Even fighting with Veronica, made Logan feel more than getting along with half the girls he’d… gotten along with. Including Kendall. “To explain? I still don’t know what exactly happened to make her hate me, but I really wanna fix it. I’m sure the situation looked bad, but I’d never want to hurt her like that, seriously. I can’t stand that she thinks I would.”   
  
     Since the last time he’d kissed Veronica, Logan was experiencing full-on 80s montage sad pining. Like, staring out the window of his limo, sighing his days away, wondering how to make things okay again.   
  
    “Let me stop you there, Echolls,” Weevil shook his head, swirling his coffee. “I've known Veronica, going on a decade now, and we don’t… braid each other’s hair or anything but I _know_ she’s been with some real jerks, and I know the kinds of cases that she takes… a little too personally.” Sighing, Weevil tried to level with the guy, “So, despite how much she might’ve liked you, _for whatever reason_ ” Weevil looked doubtful, “I’m sure she was just waiting for the moment when you acted like the rich, entitled, pretty-boy jerk other people say you are-” Stopping Logan’s protests with a handwave, and a dug-deep glare from his PCH days, “All I’m saying is, about three nights a week, Veronica pays me to protect her. _I’m_ her insurance policy against repeat performances of some of the bad shit she’s seen and been through.”   
  
    Weevil remembered crow-barring her out of a locked box freezer in a freak’s basement about eight years ago. She’d hugged him and thanked him, hands trembling the whole ride home. He remembered picking her up at a party in high school, where her dress had been ripped and she'd called in a police raid. Their relationship had its tumultuous moments, they were both pretty tumultuous people, but she trusted him with her life, and she’d helped him turn his life around. _For the most part._   
  
    “And I scare her,” Logan remembered; he scared her, she’d told him that much.      
  
    With a slight nod, Weevil had figured that much, “ _So_ , fix _that_ , and you’re golden,” downing the last bit of coffee, he mustered a smile.   
  
     “You want my advice?” Weevil figured Logan did, that was why they were there, “You won’t push her into anything, it’s like talking to a wall once her mind’s made up. A big, reinforced wall. Just… give her some time to decide if you’re worth the risk.” Shrugging, Weevil fought the traitorous feeling he thought he felt sneak up on him. He was Veronica’s ally, giving trade secrets to someone she was on the outs with. Shaking his head, Weevil wondered if he could just put it on his tab with her; add it to the list of questionable things he’d done for Veronica Mars- and he promised himself he _was_ there for her.   
  
    “They show a lot of Dr. Phil reruns in juvie?” Logan teased, almost a thank you. “How’d you _prove_ yourself to Veronica?” He asked, eyeing some of Weevil’s tattoos. He couldn’t remember ever meeting Mrs. Navarro’s grandson, but Logan remembered hearing about him once in awhile, mostly when he was in trouble or needed help.   
  
   “Still working on it,” Weevil shrugged his motorcycle jacket back on and got up to leave Logan the check, and a lot to think about. “It's a lot of work to prove V wrong, you know; a lot of work, but worth it if you can do it.”

 

    “Think I got a shot?”

 

    Weevil still stood, taking his question seriously, “Honestly? I don't know, Echolls. My gambling days are a little behind me, you know.” And Weevil left.


	16. Hard Times

    Throwing her bag down onto the office couch, Veronica sunk down next to it, putting her feet up on the coffee table. Two grand from Mrs. Picarrino in her office safe, Veronica was sated enough to sour her good mood thinking about Logan Echolls. He’d seemed genuinely shocked at Veronica’s accusations, and genuinely insistent that Kendall hadn’t been telling her the truth.    
  
    “Everything okay, honey?” Keith saw more than the average hump-day frustrations on his daughter’s face.   
  
    Face still screwed up in concentration, Veronica shook her head, “Don’t you just hate when it’s not what it looks like?” She was in trance-mode, thinking about what Logan had said after the Picarrino fiasco.    
  
   On her way to earning her title of proper-battle-tested-private-eye, Veronica had seen a lot of cases- a  _ lot _ \- that were exactly what they looked like, and very few lately that defied her trained eye. But she hadn’t actually  _ seen _ Logan do anything necessarily nefarious, and for the first time in a long time Veronica found she  _ wanted _ to believe someone, she  _ wanted _ the optics of a thing to be just that- the optics.    
  
    “What do you mean, honey?” Folding his arms over his chest, Keith tried not to smile at his daughter’s troubled-face, but it’d been exactly the same since she was a little kid, with the set brow and pouting lips.    
  
    “I think I  _ might’ve _ made a mistake,” breaking her concentration to look up at him, Veronica saw her pops was getting older, and that meant she was getting older, too. “It looked bad,” she went on, explaining without an ounce of detail, “and I might’ve made it worse.”   
  
    Realistically, Veronica figured there were exactly zero scenarios in which finding Logan Echolls in a hotel room with a smoking hot, rich other woman could’ve gone well. She tried to picture it a hundred different ways.  _ If he would’ve opened the door himself, if Kendall had been honest, if no one humiliated her.  _   
  
_ If  _ Logan had been telling her the truth- that  _ really, honey, I was there for a dinner- _ Veronica scrolled through her cellphone, realizing he must’ve called her right after the dinner was finished.  _ If I would’ve answered the phone, _ she added to the list of possible re-situations.    
  
    “Veronica, do you remember what you said after you graduated school? Right after you came home?” Leaning back on the corner of his desk, Keith made sure his daughter was paying attention.    
  
    “After  _ Troy, _ you mean,” Veronica had to smile at her dad’s innuendo.  _ After graduating.  _ Before graduating college, Veronica’s life had been spinning out of control; she’d been taking too many rough cases, too many part time jobs, and just working too hard. Troy had been the one good thing, until she found out about all his secrets- all the things he kept from her, even when he said he’d loved her.  _ After graduating. _ Spiral fully gone wild, she’d had her boyfriend arrested for drug-pedalling at their college graduation, and that was how they broke up. Troy Vandergraff, the greatest conman she’d ever dated, and Veronica had loved him before she really got to know him, and once she got to know him… She shook her head.  “I was tired.”   
  
    Investigating Troy, and the extent of his lies, between the job, school, and all the Troy crime-drama, Veronica hit her breaking point.   
  
    “You were exhausted,” Keith corrected, and earned himself another weary smile. “You remember what you said when you felt a little better after crucifying a few other standard Neptune evil-doers?”   
  
    A few cases after Troy, and a few late-night cocktail missions with Mac, Veronica had felt better. And worse. She’d started to think maybe the problem was her, maybe the issue was something that she could fix. Cautious, out-of-options optimism of that time aside, Veronica remembered feeling better.   
  
    “If I’m always looking for people’s skeletons, I will always find them,” Nodding slowly, Veronica didn’t feel like that exhausted before-graduation girl.. Lessons learned the hard way with Troy, with her mother, with Lilly’s case and hundreds of other cases… her life was good despite all the bad stuff, despite what it looked like. And until her raffle-date with Logan, she hadn’t even realized she’d missed having a real romantic element. Job, dog, friends. The only aspect missing was...   
  
    The Win-A-Date press was still on TMZ’s homepage, and Veronica opened it on her phone, scrolling through the paparazzi pictures from that first night, of her in his sunglasses, holding his hand through a crowd of flashbulbs and chants.    
  
    Shaking her head, she remembered getting ready for it, in her free suite, preparing herself to sit through an awkward-encounter with a stranger she had nothing in common with. Logan had surprised her by being genuinely likeable, and she’d surprised herself by genuinely liking him, for almost no reason at first. For sunglasses and his smile and no reason at all.    
  
    A text from Weevil broke Veronica’s visual trip down Logan-Echolls-memory-lane.    
  
 Weevil:   _ Your boyfriend’s got his mope on. _ __   
__   
 Weevil:  _ Seems  _ awfully _ sorry for something. Looks all kicked-puppy, and I know I didn’t kick him. _ __   
__   
   Veronica blinked; there’d only be one person Weevil teased her about now, but what did Logan Echolls and Weevil Navarro have in common, besides her. She smiled anyway, without thinking about why.   
  
   Veronica:  _ Rallying for the pretty white boys, now? I thought I could trust you. And you two just… happen to have bumped into each other? _ __   
__   
    Tapping out her reply, Veronica figured that  _ coincidence _ had left her life a long time ago. Weevil’s reply came quicker than Veronica anticipated.    
  
   Weevil:  _ Didn’t say he was pretty. _ __   
__   
   Weevil:  _ Baby V  likes him. _   
  
    Tiny little Valentina Navarro liked Logan Echolls? It was a nod in his favor, Veronica knew that, especially with Weevil, but that didn’t answer all Veronica’s questions.    
  
    Veronica:  __ Big V’s on the fence.   
  
    Smiling and shaking her head, Veronica clicked her phone off, she had to follow one of the mayor’s girlfriends a little later, and she still had to change, and walk up Back Up, and at some point, probably stop thinking about Logan Echolls. Even if Weevil had practically rubber-stamped him.   
  
    “Back to work,” Veronica nodded to her dad, mind a little less-set on forgetting Logan just yet.


	17. Hear Your Voice of Treason

   Taking a hard breath, Logan paced around his room a final time, tossing his phone between his hands, back and forth, and back and forth. Nodding at himself in the mirror, something said _go for it,_ _call her. Now._  
  
    Convincing himself it was fate and good fortune talking, rather than reckless impatience, Logan dialed. He knew what Weevil said- not to push her. He wasn’t planning pushing her, just leaving a nice, simple, casual, friendly voicemail to let her know that--  
  
  “Hello?” Veronica answered. She couldn’t stop herself from picking up again.   
  
    Logan stalled, brain gone completely empty and void of any proper response to her unexpected voice. Normally, when Logan’s brain decided to disconnect, the outcome was for him to keep talking, incessantly and usually to some inflammatory effect. But then, his voice caught.   
  
    “Logan?” She asked, chewing her bottom lip, waiting. If this was a butt dial, Veronica was going to curl up into a ball and possibly never enter polite society again.   
  
    “Hey,” he breathed, brain finally catching up to the sound of her voice, and letting his mouth do it’s usual thing. “I wasn’t sure you knew who this was,” half-teasing, Logan had to wonder if teasing counted as pushing; he hoped she was smiling for it, somewhere.   
  
    An hour into staking out the home of Stacey Reznor, a college junior who was interning for and probably sleeping with the mayor, Veronica had been playing with the idea of calling Logan herself. The problems that stopped her being that she wasn’t sure what to say, or if he’d even answer her call.   
  
    “I do, actually, new-fangled caller ID saved me the trouble of using my third eye, and everything,” keeping her eyes on Stacey’s lights going on, Veronica shook her head. She wanted to shake the twenty-one year old until she saw sense. Hired by a political rival to uncover the mayor’s secret, and multiple, affairs, Veronica was going to find a way to keep the girls’ names out of it, if she could. This girl had no business, and no sense, to carry on with a married political official who was her boss. Maybe Stacey would be smart that night, and stay home, Veronica hoped.  
  
    “Are… you taking my calls now?” Logan sounded hopeful, undiscouraged by the small seconds of silence that lingered between their speech. He could hear her breathing, her quiet; he could hear her thinking, maybe about him.   
  
    “That depends on what sort of things you might call about, I guess,” Veronica took in a slight breath, and smiled a little in her car. She remembered how easy it’d been when the stakes between them had been non-existent; when his threat level had been miniscule and they’d pulled a bump and spill with no hang ups.   
  
    Things had gotten difficult, at some point, she acknowledged her part in that. But _this_ , this part still felt fun.   
  
    “Hmm,” Logan tried to figure out why she’d picked up at all, and he tried to picture her on the other side of the line. “Where are you?” He asked, softly.   
  
    “Mid-stakeout, givings _politics are a dirty game_ , a whole new meaning,” she shook her head, relaxing against the seat of her car a little.   
  
    “Mid-stakeout with a side of scandal, interesting,” Logan nodded to himself, trying to keep his mind focused on his own water, other people’s dirt aside.   
  
   “I heard you made a new friend,” Veronica couldn’t _not_ ask how Weevil and Logan had somehow managed to become penpals or bro-buddies, or whatever. She almost laughed, trying not to picture Logan running with some of Weevil’s old crew, the PCH gang. _Definitely from different sides of the tracks,_ Veronica shook her head. “Bald, with eyelashes for days. Real mean look in his eye when he puts it there,” she teased.   
  
    So Weevil had put in a good word, Logan took a breath. Some word, anyway, for her to mention it; possibly a good word, because she’d picked up the phone.   
  
    “Mrs. Navarro, your muscle’s grandma, has been our housekeeper for… I don’t know, since we got the house,” Logan thought back to moving to their mansion in LA what felt a hundred years ago. “I didn’t realize the connection at first; but yeah, we had coffee, his eyes look a lot less mean when he’s holding a frappucino,” he teased.   
  
    “Coffee? And have you boys decided to take your relationship to the next level?” Veronica figured they talked about her, and she swore that wasn’t just her vanity kicking in. “I love Letty, she’s a good lady; I love her cooking,” she added, wondering how she never made the connection herself. “You guys have a lot in common then?” She couldn’t resist wondering what that coffee table meeting must’ve been like.   
  
     “Just you, mostly,” Logan smiled. He _missed_ her, he genuinely missed talking to her, and he breathed easier for it. “You’ve known each other a long time,” he wanted to ask about that, about their history, about _her_ history- Weevil had looked like there were a lot of stories, some of them bad, about things she’d been through. But would that be pushing?  
  
    “He saved my life,” she admitted, staring hard at Stacey’s ugly, green blinds drawn in the living room of her home. “More than once. He’s a good friend,” Veronica nodded, “and he seems to think you’ve developed a certain… kicked-puppy quality about you. He mentioned it being unbecoming,” Veronica didn’t laugh again, but she smiled, biting her lip.   
  
    Logan braced himself, there were a lot of ways this conversation could go badly, and he didn’t want to go down any of those bad routes. Also, he tucked the _he saved my life_ follow up onto a back-burner of his brain, because he was going need to hear details on that story.   
  
    “I wear kicked puppy very well, if you could pass that message along, thank you.” Running his hand through his hair, Logan listened to the same voice that had been telling him to call her. “Let’s play a new game,” he found his voice, and waited for her to decide to play with him.   
  
    “Okay,” Veronica held her breath, unsure if she was forgiving him even as she did it.   
  
    “I show you mine, you show me yours,” Logan kept his smile tentative. A tit-for-tat backstory swap? Could he negotiate _that_ with a Veronica Mars who was still unsure about him? Not to mention that there were a lot of things he’d never told anyone, but… “Ready?” He asked, hoping he was careful not to push, but, maybe just a nudge.   
  
    “Want me to go first?” Ignoring the pounding in her chest, Veronica thought maybe she was apologizing, too, for assuming the worst of him without a fair investigation.   
  
_And the nudge pays off,_ Logan breathed a sigh, but shook his head at himself, “I can go first. I think there’s possibly some explanation to be shared on my part,” he’d fumed extensively at Kendall over the phone, and cut contact completely, but Kendall Casablancas had wormed her way into the Aaron Echolls’ sphere, and was going to be hard to exorcise. “I talked to Kendall,” he steeled himself, and euphemised. “The tit with her, is we dated for awhile about two years ago, she used me as her personal access point to Aaron Echolls, the man, the myth, and the money, and when I discarded her for being a trashy fame-whore in a class of her own, she had a harder time staying away.” Logan shrugged, trying to think of what he’d forgotten about Kendall; the pertinent stuff, anyway. Veronica didn’t need every graphic detail. “She’s not the kind of person who takes insults like that personally, on account of being soulless and possibly Satan. There is just no universe where we’re together anymore in any way other than she works for my dad and I marvel at how much work she can get done on her back.”   
  
    Choking on a laugh, Veronica wondered what that kind of venom tasted like, and turned the thought out of her head when her mind went to Logan’s lips.  “I feel like that’s the kind of ringing endorsement where you turn around and she’s actually standing there,” Veronica shook her head, running her hand down her thighs. “I mean… the _bathrobe_ though,” Veronica whined, leaning her head on the glass of her car, reminding herself that she was supposed to be working, not just hanging out in her car. She’s not wired for forgiveness, she’s not wired for second chances, she was fresh out. But if she’d cheated Logan’s first chance…   
  
    “She knew who you were,” Logan exhaled, shook his head, eyes closed, “I’m so sorry about that, Veronica,” he added softly. “I think the bathrobe was for your benefit, she didn’t own to it. I would say I can’t believe she did that, but I really can.” It was a stupid move to shower with her there, but Logan just figured he was buying a few minutes away from her before dinner.  
  
     “Soulless and possibly Satan?” Veronica winced, she could buy that, it lined up with what she experienced firsthand about Kendall Casablancas. Believing Logan meant Kendall caught a lot of the blame for that, and Veronica was pretty sure she was okay with that. “She really used you to get to your dad?” Still wincing, Veronica idly wondered what kinds of bad days she could give Kendall Casablancas. If she was going to stoop there again, she thought; _if._  
  
     “She did it better than others,” Logan couldn’t stop a smile at what _it_ really meant here, “and at least I knew what to expect.” A twelve year old Logan Echolls would’ve been a breakfast sausage for Kendall Casablancas, but twenty year old Logan Echolls could give soulless as good as he got it. “What, you wanted the lock on trust issues in this relationship? I don’t think so, Mars,” Logan laughed light, but Veronica wasn’t sure.   
  
    “Is that my cue for tat?” Veronica asked, still shaking her head at him; still just _liking_ him. “First, can I ask what Weevil told at your coffee date?”  
  
    Chewing a thumbnail, Veronica had a lot of tats to choose from, and figured Logan had a lot of stories, too, but he’d picked to tell her about Kendall, because she wanted to know about Kendall.   
  
    “He hinted at the saved-your-life thing,” Logan admitted, “but he didn’t get wild with the specifics. When you say saved your life are you taking a nice helping of poetic license and speaking metaphorically?” He had a bad feeling, but maybe she picked then to indulge an over-dramatic streak.   
  
    “I got into trouble, Weevil got me out,” Veronica winced making the long story short, Weevil had literally gotten her out of a lot of bad scrapes, “it was a close call,” she admitted, “I’ve never told anyone else this. The police didn’t need my testimony, the guy was already going away for life.”  
  
   Swallowing an offending lump in her throat, Veronica remembered why she’d stopped answering Logan’s calls. Why she’d _really_ stopped answering his calls; because his threat level had been significantly upped since their first fake date.   
  
    “You don’t have to start here,” Logan’s voice was low, soft, “tell me something else, save that for another time,” he asked. “How’d you meet Weevil?”   
  
   Closing her eyes, Veronica felt like she was chickening out, but she took the way out he offered. “Funny story, actually. He was the leader of a gang in high school, and I accused him of some deviant behavior, he did some deviant behavior, we traded morally-grey favors for years and then when he was out of the gang it was a little easier to be friends.” Explaining it to a stranger, Veronica admitted it sounded a little less than upstanding.   
  
    Logan laughed, breathing easier at the way she was audibly breathing easier. “That kind of tracks, honestly. Morally-grey favors, like he was your first bump-and-spill man?” High school Veronica sounded like someone to meet, to Logan. He was still curious, but still mindful of the _push._  
  
    Watching Stacey turn out the lights finally, Veronica was glad she could maybe head home for the night. She didn’t start the car just yet, though.   
  
    “Morally-grey favors like…” Veronica took a breath, thinking about the Weevil-and-Veronica greatest hits, “chasing down pinatas full of steroids, his uncle’s chopshop helping me out with car parts, teaming up to get over on the Sheriff, that kind of stuff.” Smiling, Veronica waited for Logan’s silence to subside. “I think my stake-outs about done,” she figured Stacey was in bed, probably half asleep, like a lot of good little twenty-somethings.   
  
    “Pinatas full of steroids?” Logan smirked, shaking his head. “You have some kind of life, Veronica.” He could understand, how she would’ve thought the worst of him then.   
  
    “Too… ugly for you?” She asked, key in the ignition, done with this long day, but feeling lighter.   
  
    “I didn’t say that,” smiling, Logan shook his head. Life and death situations, pinatas full of steroids, were a long ways away from bump and spills, and pretty dresses in hotel bars. But they were all a part of her, different parts of her, and he bet there was more he didn’t know. More prickly parts of her, that protected the soft things about her. “My life has its blemishes, too,” he reminded her about Kendall and paparazzi and even his father. “Can I call you tomorrow?” Feeling brave, Logan figured why not tempt fate.   
  
    “Yeah,” Veronica nodded to herself, “yeah, I think so. I’m sorry, you know. For… with the jumping to conclusions and not letting you explain.”   
  
    “You’re used to bad explanations,” Logan guessed as much, Weevil had said as much. “And it looked bad.” Kendall hadn’t explained at all, but Logan understood enough to feel lucky Veronica was back in his life.  
  
    “Goodnight,” she smiled, glad she picked up the phone.   
  
    “Goodnight, friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -titles a blink182 borrowed lyric, and there's a bit in here where V says "too ugly for you?" and Logan says "i didn't say that" which is a borrowed bit from Roadhouse, because. 
> 
> thanks for all your comments!


	18. Lie to Me

  Running late to lunch again, Veronica winced and slid into the diner booth across from Wallace.   
  
    “It’s fine, I brought the paper with me,” Wallace cut her off and didn’t look up, but he was already smiling. Old habits die hard, he figured, and Wallace knew better than anyone that Veronica had a lot of old habits. She was always going to be way too caught up professionally to prioritize her personal life, and now that he was pulling less favors these days, he figured she had a little more on her plate. Figuratively, because they hadn’t gotten their food, yet. “So you talked to Hollywood?” Wallace didn’t soften totally, he still pretended to read his newspaper, but he had to ask.   
  
    “That cannot be his name,” Veronica protested, but nodded. “I think maybe just this once, I may have made the snap judgement. I think he’s innocent, in at _least_ this matter.” Ordering a milkshake, and a cheeseburger, Veronica liked these parts of her life. The easy gossip, the running late to lunch for the Wallace-special. The good mood that came off a late night talk.   
  
    “Just this once?” Wallace looked up to glare, “Remember when you accused me of-”   
  
    “ _Fine,_ twice, maybe three times tops,” she admitted, with a smirk. It was rare, but it happened; sometimes she made her mind up, acted, and then had to retract the judgement. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to do it with a guy she was maybe-dating. Were they maybe-dating? Did she date now? She couldn’t date anyone who could be referred to as Hollywood? Right?   
  
    The incident with Kendall still annoyed her, she could admit that, too. But Veronica still liked Logan, still wanted to know him, still wanted to maybe-date him. Still wanted to give him a shot. And it’d been a long time since she’d wanted to give anyone a shot.   
  
    “Yeah, right,” Wallace shook his head, with just a hint of eyeroll. “So he’s off the hook?” He made an impressed face. “Nicely done, Hollywood.” Turning to his own sandwich, Wallace dug in, ready to let Veronica off the hook for being late, too. “So you gonna see him again?”   
  
    Veronica balked, she wasn’t sure. “Probably?” Shrugging, she shook her head, “How desperate are you for another couple’s trivia night?” Teasing him, Veronica remembered the trainwreck of a date she’d brought to the last double date she’d went on with Jackie and Wallace, bar trivia with Piz. Veronica got sleepy just reliving the memory; and they’d _lost,_ after all the snoozing and everything.   
  
    “Not at all desperate,” Wallace laughed, shaking his head, “not for trivia, at least. Why did we do that again?”   
  
    “Two-for-one drinks night,” Veronica reminded him with a laugh. _Logan could make trivia fun,_ she thought, and internally embarrassed herself. Five seconds ago, she hadn’t been sure if she’d see him again, and then she was imagining cheating at trivia with him, for half-priced drinks.   
  
    “Oh, right,” he nodded, “in that case, we should try that again,” Wallace laughed.   


* * *

  
  
  Pressing dial, Veronica licked her lips in anticipation, insisting to herself that the butterflies she felt were indigestion from her dad’s cooking dinner.   
  
   Two rings, and Logan smiled when he answered, “Logan’s Mule Barn, here. Head ass speaking.”   
  
   Shaking off a laugh, Veronica’s nerves were appropriately calmed; and her indigestion.   
  
   “Sweet talk? So early in our relationship?” She teased, “I hope it’s okay I called.” Okay, not _all_ of Veronica’s nerves were calmed; a good percentage, though.   
  
   “Of course!” Logan assured her, even if he was surprised to see her name on his caller ID. “Couldn’t stop thinking about me, either?” Teasing her, had gotten him a call back, and Logan planned on pursuing a no-push-fun-only policy, if he could. For some reason, their conversations had a tendency to get dark and serious and a little steamy, but his new approach to Veronica Mars, was to make her laugh. Or at least smile, a little.   
  
   “Actually, I was just in dire need of a mule, I was gonna ask if you knew a guy,” Veronica pressed the phone harder to her ear, smiling, folding her legs up onto her couch to get comfortable. Pretty sure he would pick up if he could, Veronica had only really been nervous about what to say, and now she remembered she didn’t have to be nervous about that.   
  
    “Oh, for a case, is it?” Laughing, Logan relaxed a touch, leaning back in a chair on his patio. The night was cool, breezy. Like the night they’d first shared on the beach, where she’d surprised him with that kiss. “You have a lot of mule-related PI work, Ms. Mars?”   
  
    “Let’s just say, I’ve dealt with a lot of people vying for the Head Ass position,” that much was true, Veronica figured.   
  
    “Like the guy you _grazed_ with an actual car _,”_ Logan wasn’t going to let that story go, making her smile or not, it made him laugh.   
  
    “All the ones I’ve tased, too,” Veronica teased, a dare somewhere in her voice, “some of the ones I’ve helped, too, don’t forget them.” Occasionally, Veronica had the bad sense to take on rich clients she couldn’t stand; everyone’s money was green, and her rent was just always due.   
  
    “How’d the thing with Harry turn out?” Logan asked, shamefully remembering the fight they’d had in the Neptune Grand. Her eyes had been sparking when he’d interrupted her job, and somehow Logan forgot to apologize for that. “I’m sorry I, you know-”   
  
   Shaking her head, Veronica rolled her eyes at how much she wanted to kill him for that, “I forgot about that when the client’s check cleared, honestly. It was _pretty_ smooth, the way you handled that, but…” She tried _not_ to remind herself that her dad had run worse interference when catching her on jobs she didn’t tell him about.   
  
    “Very uncool, understood,” he swore. “Are you working now?” All day, Logan had been thinking about how they’d talked through her late night shift, and how she’d wanted someone to share them with. He hoped he was approaching the shortlist for _someone._   
  
    “Now? Incredibly hard at work,” Veronica was scratching underneath Back Up’s chin, her phone to her ear still, “sitting in my living room, spoiling my dog, thinking about a Tarantino marathon; tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it..” She laughed, and heard Logan laugh, too. “Hey, are you in the mood for a game?” Pushing herself, Veronica took a deep breath. After lunch with Wallace, Veronica couldn’t stop thinking that she and Logan had never really had a _real_ date. They’d had the Win-A-Date, a press photoshoot, her family barbecue, her work-turned-date… The Picarrino event. _Wasn’t a date,_ she reminded herself with a helping of force. They’d fought, and Veronica had feeling they were both still feeling bad about it, she just couldn’t tell who felt worse.   
  
    She had a willingness, an eagerness even, to know him better- to be comfortable with him, and she couldn’t pin down an exact reason why. It just felt like if they could get through the uncomfortable parts, comfort was probably on the other side. And she was starting to like the kinds of _games_ they played.   
  
   “I could be in a mood to play,” Logan staved off a wince. Knowing her better, getting to know her, required some measure of pushing, he’d realized that last night, when their _game_ turned serious. “What sort of game were you looking for?”   
  
   “The fun kind,” Veronica said, just a little mocking in her voice. “Let’s see. We each say three things about ourselves, one true, two false, and the other one guesses which is true.” Chewing  fingernail, Veronica had cover stories for days, her false statements would be easy to pick from. The true ones, a little more difficult to offer up. “You go first,” she shrugged, feeling fair about it.   
  
    Nodding like she was there, Logan liked this. “To be clear, you want me to lie to you, twice, and tell you the truth just once?” With everything Logan picked up from Weevil, and the bits he’d picked up for himself, this didn’t seem like a game that would be fun for her.   
  
    “What, you wanted the lock on trust issues in this relationship?” She parroted one of his used-taunts, and Logan nodded to himself, again.   
  
    “Fair enough, _Ronnie,_ ” he teased back, already thinking of something to share with her. And two lies, of course. “Uh… okay,” Logan thought, making her wait a second, “Let’s at least _try_  and keep it fun, okay?” He asked, like he was checking with her, and Veronica didn’t stop him. “Firstly, I once toyed with idea of surfing professionally. Secondly, I’ve never owned a pet. Thirdly, I’m not wearing any underwear. Now you… pick out the true one?”   
  
     Tapping a fingernail against her lips, Veronica remembered his tan and his surf-worthy muscles, so… that was a good thought, something to hope for in the world of professional sports. And him not wearing any underwear was too dangerous a thought to register fully just yet, when she didn’t even know what they were doing, besides having _fun._   
  
   “Uh, you’ve never owned a pet?” She asked, picking the safest bet, but feeling sad about it. Veronica couldn’t remember not having a dog. Chi-chi was the Mars’ first family pet, a pit-mix about half the size of Back Up, small for her breed but feisty. Then, of course, came Back Up. The lovable, brave, _heavy_ best friend who was sitting on her feet in a way that was making them lose feeling.   
  
    “We’re sorry, but the response we were looking for was door number three, I’m _not_  wearing any underwear. I did, however, have two hermit crabs- Mr. and Mrs. Potatohead, when I was ten. And I’m more amateur than pro-surfer, but thank you for playing, we hope you accept this year’s conciliatory prize of a year’s worth of chewing gum.” Logan teased her, still promising her a light game so far.   
  
   Veronica laughed, “How much is a year’s worth, exactly?” Shaking her head, of course door number three had been the true one. Just silly enough and suggestive enough to be his style. “I _am_ wearing underwear, I’ll volunteer that off that bat, Command _o_ Echolls,” Veronica had her three facts figured out already. “I go, I go; firstly, I was once locked in the trunk of my own car by a high-school secret society. Secondly, I got kicked off of pep squad for having _too_ much pep, and thirdly… my favorite board game is CLUE.”   
  
   “Hmm, a PI who’s favorite board game is CLUE? Is it cliche enough to be true?” Stroking an imaginary beard, Logan didn’t decide just yet. “Too much pep is cute to imagine but impossible to be true; you and pigtails? If it _is_ true, I want the picture-proof,” he sighed, “okay. Third one’s my best guess. Mostly ‘cause you’re definitely tiny enough to fit in a trunk but… who’d risk enacting that kind of revenge from you? Remember the guy you-”   
  
   “Grazed, yes. I did mention he deserved it,” Veronica held back a laugh. _Well he had!_ “But nope, monopoly’s my favorite; money just paper, ruthlessness rewarded… it has all my highlights.” She laughed, remembering the last time she’d finished a game of monopoly was a challenge. “And I quit pep squad after Lily died; wasn’t very peppy, you know? And I’ll die before you see the proof,” tone warning, Veronica shook her head. “That leaves option numero uno; I had to call Wallace to come get me… it was, how you say, mortifying,” she laughed.   
  
   Years later, she could laugh. So there was a statute where wrongs committed turned funny, she reminded herself.   
  
    “Locked you in a _trunk_ \- give me their names,” Logan kept his laugh short, only half-joking. He could guess that was hardly the worst thing that ever happened to her, and that made him too curious about the not-fun parts of her, again. “Remind me at least to never play monopoly against you, though I find your self-described ruthlessness very charming,” he added, thinking up a new set of facts and fake facts. “Let’s see. So, firstly, at the first red carpet premiere I ever attended I ate so much cotton candy I puked blue cloud chunks for two days. Secondly, I once had a frosted-tips phase. Thirdly, I’ve never broken a bone.” Smiling to himself, he couldn’t help but wonder which she’d pick, shame only slightly-coloring his cheeks.   
  
    “Hmm…” Veronica contemplated. “Second one, only cause I’m _really_ hoping it’s true; talk about needing photo evidence.” Making a mental note that Google could probably come through for her if it _was_ true, she laughed. “Final answer.”   
  
   Sighing, Logan owned it, “Correct. I puked _pink_ cloud chunks for two days, and around the same time I broke my arm for the first time.” _Well, my father broke it,_ but _details,_ Logan sucked a hard breath, reminding himself this was the fun part he’d secretly promised her.   
  
   “Well the blue/pink swap feels like cheating,” Veronica pointed out, hearing his breathing change over the line.   
  
   “How so?” He challenged, relaxing almost against his will.   
  
   “I don’t know. Just does,” Shrugging to herself, and to Back Up, Veronica smoothed her lips together, thinking up new fake facts. “But I’ll let it slide with the happy knowledge you once had frosted tips,” she laughed again. “Firstly, I’ve never paid to see one of your dad’s movies. Secondly, I have only owned convertible cars in my lifetime, and thirdly, I’m deathly afraid of jellyfish.” Finally nudging Back Up off her feet, Veronica shifted on the couch. She _did_ have early client meetings in the morning, and the blue-black-circles she’d accrued staking out Stacey Reznor’s place were going to become permanent fixtures without sleep soon. _Just a couple more turns,_ she decided, adding another reason to the why-Logan-Echolls-was-bad-for-her list.   
  
    “A stumper; okay.” Logan leaned back to think. “I find it hard to believe you’re deathly afraid of anything, and I know you’re not a fan of mi padre, so… the _secondly._ You’ve only owned convertible cars.” Feeling sure of himself, he added, “Final answer,” teasing both her and Regis in one fell swoop.   
  
   “ _Nope,”_ crushing all Logan’s self-assuredness, Veronica ignored her clock. “I had an SUV phase in college, and I saw _Raging Heat_  when it was in theaters.” One of his dad’s older flicks, by Veronica’s memory, but she shrugged.   
  
    “ _Raging Heat,_ yes, rings a bell. Fire-fighter single dad, lots of body-double stunt action and pyrotechnics guys on that staff.” Logan shook his head, “Thank you for your generous contribution to the Logan Echolls Trust Fund,” he laughed a little uneasily, “remind me to give you back your eleven bucks, Mars.” Of course, Veronica had said she hated his dad’s movies; meaning she’d watched at least some of them, _Raging Heat_ among them, apparently. “That wasn’t the premiere I puked at, I’ll throw in that morsel of truth as a little bonus-reparation.”   
  
  
    “My turn,” he continued, “I… used to beg my parents for a little brother. I… am terrible at playing darts. And I would really like to see you again, maybe tomorrow night.” Logan smiled, even in the few seconds of silence she gave him.   
  
   “My turn,” she decided, sitting up a little, “My… favorite color’s pink. I… have never googled you,” Veronica smiled, knowing he’d know that was false, “And I would really like to see you again, too, maybe tomorrow night.” She waited.   
  
   “Oh, well now this is just _awkward…_ ” Baiting her, Logan smiled to himself, “Veronica… I’m- I’m really _good_ at darts,” he laughed when she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep, title borrowed from the Buffy ep


	19. Is It Cool If I Hold Your Hand

    “You realize, of course, that this is our first _actual_ date.” Logan held the limo door open for her, and Veronica shook her head climbing in.   
  
    He’d been accidentally thinking about it all day; nothing they’d shared so far had counted as a date, in the traditional sense of the word. They aren’t very traditional, he knew that looking in the limo’s rearview at her. But something’s, Logan assured himself, had to be sacred.   
  
   “Does this mean you’re going to mispronounce my name all night, and order something very smelly? Those are the _actual_ first dates I’ve been on,” Veronica leaned against him lightly, in the backseat. “Is there a reason one of couldn’t drive on this _actual_ first date?” She asked, knowing she was probably asking a silly question, when he was sitting there smirking at her like that.   
  
    “Of course there is, I’m trying to woo you, and _all_ this-” Logan waved his hand over the limo’s mini-bar, and general black-leather splendor, “Woo worthy. First class swooning, only, _Velma_ , was it?” He leaned in dangerously close, glad to smell her perfume off her hair. Sweet, and something mysterious.   
  
    “ _Daphne!_ ” She scoffed, scandalized for a second, “And I’m officially ordering the anchovies on this first, official date,” her smile snapped up at him, catching his eyes a second too long.   
  
       The restaurant was a little more low-key than their last first-date attempt; and she smiled at him for it. Less high-gloss, and less harsh lighting, and more private tables than walking through the entire press armada they had the first time. When he took the seat next to her, not across, Veronica stared a second, but recovered.   
  
    “Too close for comfort?” Asking down in her ear, Logan practically whispered in her ear, in  way that made Veronica look up around them, but the surrounding tables were empty, or at least preoccupied. “Am I in taser range?”   
  
    “Not at all, just a novel approach to a square table,” eyeing the short-distance between them, Veronica smiled, “you may want to rethink it, though. You’re in a prime food-stealing zone, and I’ve been known to steal food off unsuspecting, nearby plates.” Veronica warned, grinning.   
  
    Careful not to bump her elbow reaching for the bread, Logan nodded. “You’re welcome to it, what’s mine is yours,” ripping his bread in half, he offered her a piece.   
  
    “Willing to share food? Did you somehow get a look at the list of requirements in my dream man?” Veronica teased, fighting not to talk with food in her mouth.   
  
    “Oh? There’s a list? Now _that’s_ what I should’ve been asking Weevil for,” Logan took a bite, tone comically mournful, “so what else can I check off this fantasy list? Devilishly good-looking, _funny_ , great hair?” With a wink, Logan clinched himself a half-hearted eye-roll.   
  
   “Where exactly is the benchmark for _devilishly?_ ” Veronica nudged him with her foot under the table, clarifying with a smile. “Hey, I just want what every girl wants,” she shrugged, an innocence about the whole thing, “a guy who shares food, who my dog likes, with a nice ass.”   
  
   Laughing, Logan was ready to claim his title as Fantasy Date, but Veronica stopped him with a hand up, “Did I forget to mention blonde?” She teased, making him pout something that definitely pushed him into _devilishly_ good-looking.   
  
   “Can’t believe you’d have me bleach my second best feature.” Sipping his water, Logan ignored her expectant stare for a second, making her wait before expanding, “After my nice ass, obviously. I noticed you do walk behind me an awful lot, _Ronnie,”_ he laughed, again, knowing he earned the _blonde_ comment for teasing her about playing a great game of darts the night before.   
  
    For a second, sitting next to her, laughing, Logan wondered why it had never been like this with anyone else. Why it’d never been this good, this fun, this daring, with anyone else he’d ever met. The answer, obviously, was that he’d never met anyone like her; ever.   
  
       
  
    Distracted by the waiter taking their orders, Veronica barely noticed when her hand came down to rest against his, over his. Leaving it there just a little too long, she withdrew, when he grabbed her hand again, kissing her fingers and half-embarrassing them both.   
  
   So far, Logan had never been anyone’s real _boyfriend,_ he’d never wanted to kiss anyone’s fingers; then, it was difficult to imagine wanting to kiss anyone else’s.   
  
    “So what’s the verdict so far?” He asked, when their food came; prompt, and steamy.   
  
   “Verdict?” She managed between bites of pasta.   
  
   “On our first official date?” Logan smiled at her grin.   
  
   Veronica sipped her water, still grinning. What was her verdict?   
  
   “My verdict,” she swirled her glass of water, still aware of how close they were sitting; how intensely he was watching her, even when she was just sitting there. He made her feel like she was important to him, like it was natural that they should be this close, feeling this good. Like the entire world revolved around them, and his entire world revolved around her. “I feel like I’m on a date with the high school quarterback,” Veronica stopped herself, “only smart, and less of a jerk, and if you order chocolate cake for me to steal off your plate, that’s the only thing that could make tonight a ten out of ten.”   
  
   Reaching softly for her chin, Logan brought her lips to his, over the only corner of the dinner table between them. It was a jaw-droppingly, sexy, bold move, _just_ this side of pushing- especially for a _first_ date- but it was the perfect _reset_ button to putting the entire Kendall-in-the-Neptune-Grand fiasco behind Veronica. Jaw-droppingly sexy, and just a little knee-weakening.   
  
   “Woo-worthy,” Veronica whispered when their lips parted, a little breathless, feeling like she was going a little blind.   
  
    “You want to woo?” Logan teased, leaning in to brush his lips against her cheek. “Save that for when I go to the bottled-blonde dark-side,” he smirked.   
  
   “My verdict is, I feel woo-ed,” laughing, to herself and _at_ him, Veronica shook her head.   
  
   “I _do_ have a confession to make,” Logan bit his lip, feigning a look of guilt he had down-pat, “I haven’t been on very many second dates,” hitting a serious note, they exchanged soft smiles.   
  
   “Second dates are interesting,” she nodded, mostly to herself, “cause usually, by the second date, guys know my name and can pronounce it, but they start to get boring.” Eyes shining like she’d winked at him, Veronica stole a bite of his dinner.   
  
   “Should I work on becoming boring?” Logan asked, with a crooked smirk.   
  
  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you want a side of fluff with your fluff?


	20. Tour Through Tinseltown

   “And you’re _sure_ about this?” Narrowing her eyes up at him, Veronica could hear the party already ongoing.  
  
    Music, loud enough to hear through the door, and the small army of Lexus’ and Range Rovers lining the driveway told Veronica she may just be a little out of place in this particular star-studded birthday party for Lynn Echolls.  
  
   “You look great- I’ll haveta pry Ryan Gosling’s eyeballs off you all night.” It wasn’t the enticing treat to Veronica it’d always been to other girls, Logan could see that in her face. He’d never been liked _despite_ his proximity to celebrity- the thought made him smile, even as he told himself not to get used to it. On the other side of the door was a swarm of people who only smiled in his face because of his last name, but as long as they smiled at Veronica too, Logan decided he wouldn’t care, for the night.  
  
    They were still on his doorstep, lingering on the porch in a private moment, before the final step across the threshold.  
  
    Holding out her hand, Veronica mustered a smile that looked about as reassured as she felt.  
  
    “Ready or not?” She swallowed.  
  
    “Here we come,” he met her eyes with a smile. Leading her through the door, their hands still linked, “here we are.”  
  
         Veronica laughed, unsure if she should really trust her eyes. Any second, she was going to pinch herself on the arm, wake up, and her life was going to go back to normal. Until that second happened though, Veronica was careful not to pinch herself, walking around the small _ballroom_ the Echolls had for an entrance to their not-so-small home.  
  
   “ _T_ _his_ is where you grew up?” She still had to laugh, it was like she’d entered the twilight zone, a place so unrealistically glittery and opulent, Veronica wasn’t sure she was actually standing where she was standing. “It’s…” She couldn’t think of exactly the right wording.  
  
    “It has that effect on a lot of people,” eyeing the foyer nervously, Logan could see the stages of home-projecting that eventually became all that was left for his parents to talk about pleasantly. Which throw rugs would go with which tile, and who to invite to the unveiling.  
  
    “It’s like a bank just took a crap on your floor,” she blurted out, seeing her reflection in the marble tile under her shoes. “Crap, I’m sorry, that’s not-” With her eyes gone wide and panicked, when she looked to Logan he just looked amused.  
  
    “Well, I’ve never heard it put quite that way, but…” Logan laughed, ushering her through some of the crowd into the den, unsure of what to do with her now that he had her there. “I feel like my dad would take it as a compliment. If my mother hears you talk about her interior decorating like that, though.”  
  
    Chandelier glittering twenty feet above her head, Veronica caught her breath at the general splendor and crowd.  
  
    “I’ll make you a deal,” he spoke close to her, “let me introduce you to my parents, and then I’ll give you the grand tour- including a special place I think you’ll really like,” Logan wiggled his eyebrows, lips curved into a suggestive smile.  
  
    “Lemme guess, your bedroom?” Veronica giggled, nodding, ready to be lead away into the crowd.  
  
   “Better,” Logan promised, “the kitchen.” Smiling at her miniscule nod, he turned his attention to his parents, a few feet away.  
  
   As a kid, these parties bored him, as a teen, these parties were a way to hoard top-shelf liquor, and since then, Logan hadn’t attended so many of them. Unless his mother specifically asked, and this was for her birthday. Crossing the room with Veronica next to him, Logan kissed his mother’s cheek and stepped aside, his hand still on Veronica’s.  
  
    “Guys, this is-”  
  
    “The Win-A-Date girl?” Aaron smiled a little surprised, in a way that made Veronica’s shoulders tense up.  
  
    “Veronica,” Logan nodded, and continued like his father never spoke.  
  
    “Veronica!” With the cordial laugh of a hostess, Lynn’s eyes settled on Veronica and she offered a genuine smile. “I was hoping Logan was going to stop hiding you away and share you with us, one day. I’m so glad you could make it.” Extending a soft handshake into a soft kiss on the cheek, Lynn’s eyes sparkled back at his son’s. “I hope you two stay awhile.”  
  
   “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Echolls,” Veronica nodded. “This is all sorts of amazing,” waving a hand toward the party and the house, and even Lynn herself, in a gorgeous white and silver gown Veronica appraised at a glance as more expensive than her car.  
  
    “Please, call me Lynn, dear-”  
  
    “It’s always nice to meet a fan,” Aaron reached for Veronica’s hand, and Logan’s hand shifted to the small of Veronica’s back. “To enter such a contest, you must be quite a big one,” smiling, Aaron was the picture of Hollywood falseness that Veronica had expected when meeting Logan.  
  
    “Actually, Mr. Echolls, I’m not too big of a movie buff myself,” pulling her hand back, Veronica smiled sweetly.  
  
    “Someone else entered her,” Logan supplied handily, connecting the dots and suppressing a swelling smile.  
  
   “I see,” Aaron nodded unconvinced, “Let me know if I can sign anything for you, okay?” Winking, Aaron smile dimmed when he met his son’s eyes, and Veronica had never been less of an Aaron Echolls’ fan than that moment, no matter which of his bad movies she watched.  
  
    “Oh, Aaron, let’s just enjoy Lynn’s party,” Kendall sidled to their group, slipping a hand around Aaron’s shoulders, white teeth gleaming at Veronica, specifically, it seemed, “I’m sure Veronica’s eager to start her tour through Tinseltown, no?”  
  
   Logan’s breathing tensed, because he should’ve been expecting Kendall, after all, all of his father’s more favorite playthings were scattered around the party, socializing with their husbands in polite society. Watching Veronica’s face flicker with something venomous to say that she had difficulty swallowing in front of his parents, Logan shook his head.  
  
   “I get the feeling she’s seen enough, actually,” Logan cleared his throat, talking to Kendall, mirroring his mother’s polite smile.  
  
   “Oh, not at all,” her smile a few shades below polite, Veronica shook her head emphatically. “Oh,” Veronica feigned smacking herself on the forehead, “Kendall, I almost forgot.” Digging in her purse, Veronica pulled out a crumpled dollar bill, “Wanted to get that back to you,” smile souring further, “your performance was top-notch though, are you pursuing a silver screen career, too?”  
  
  “Oh, Kendall’s been in some _films_ ,” Logan offered, his tone mocking suggestively, “where her _performance_ is definitely _top_ -notch.”  
  
  “Okay,” Lynn snapped, either confused by this line of conversation or all-too perceptive, she resumed smiling. “Logan why don’t you take Veronica to get a drink? It’s not quite time for cake, but there’s food out in the kitchen, you two eat up.” Shooing Logan and Veronica off, Lynn’s eyes darkened at Kendall, who only frowned.  
  
  
   “Sorry about that,” Logan ran his hand through his hair, “I forgot she’d be here.”  
  
   Shaking her head, Veronica smoothed blonde hair behind her ear, cheeks just a little pinker than normal. “I figured she would be,” shrugging, Veronica noted the way Logan reacted to Kendall. It ended her suspicion of him, the obvious lack of fond, fuzzy feelings between them, especially then.  
  
  “You know, as the son of the birthday lady, I probably have some pull with the dessert committee,” Logan watched her smile come back easily.  
  
   “There’s a committee? A _dessert_ committee?” She laughed, and waited for him to show her the way. "Where does one sign up for that job?"  
     
    Food splayed out in front of them, sitting on top of the kitchen counter with paper plates and crystalline glasses, Logan was glad when they got a moment alone. The kitchen staff was out serving guests, and his family would occupy themselves for a time.  
  
    “So, what are you gonna do to Kendall?” Logan asked in a hushed whisper, like he wanted in on a great conspiracy.  
  
    “Do? My ass is getting flat with all the sitting-here-and-nothing about Kendall that I’m doing.” Veronica ate the last bite of her lasagna with an innocent-looking blink.  
  
   “Let’s take a walk, I’ll show you the patio,” he pulled her off the counter, amused by her even if he didn’t believe her. Standing behind her for a second, looking critically, he clicked his tongue, “Nope. No flatness here,” he smirked, and earned himself a playful glare.  
  
   The patio was cool, and quiet. A stark contrast to the house, but one Veronica appreciated. She couldn’t imagine how Logan did it, constantly; tolerated all the ass-kissing and elbow-rubbing and general air of superficiality. Veronica felt like she needed a shower. Tugging her to a dark corner of the patio, Logan pulled Veronica into his lap on a patio chair, where they’d be out of sight from the main patio door, and the main party. Kissing her, Logan was glad she came, glad they met. Glad Kendall, or his father, hadn’t ruined anything between them.  
  
   Veronica pulled back when they heard laughter approaching, and Logan put his finger to her smiling lips, shushing her.  
  
   “Thought I taught my son how to fish,” Veronica heard Aaron talking and laughing, “apparently I didn’t teach him catch and release quite so well. I mean, bringing her _here._ ” Aaron’s voice darkened, and he laughed short.  
  
    “The Win-A-Date girl?” A voice Logan recognized at Clarence Weidman’s asked, and laughed, uneasily. “How long do you _really_ think she’ll hold his attention?”  
  
   The two men laughed again, and Veronica and Logan exchanged a silent look, before Logan put her off his lap and got up.  
  
   “Stay here,” he asked, whispering against her lips before leaving her with a short kiss.  
  
   “Is there something you don’t like about Veronica?” Logan stormed back into view, disrupting his father’s cigars-and-gossip moment, apparently.  
  
   Veronica’s heart stood still, she didn’t want to hear whatever hang-ups Aaron clearly had about her. Running a hand through her hair, Veronica sighed, not knowing what Logan was planning on getting out of this.  
  
   “She’s _fine_ , Logan,” Aaron huffed, and took a drag from his cigar, “Kendall said you have some fascination with this blonde, and she’s cute, sure. But eventually, when you can’t keep your cock in your pants and you’re finished playing games with her, you’ll see what we mean about her, son. You know, she’s just… not like us. That was the _point_ , remember? You want my advice son, just sleep with her and send her back to Neptune where she belongs.” Laughing, Aaron nudged Clarence, with a small smile, but Clarence didn’t return the look when Logan charged at his father, swinging a wild fist.  
  
    _“Logan_ ,” Veronica called, rushing out quickly to  where he was leaning over his father, still struggling with him. “ _Logan_ , your mom’s _party,”_ she pulled on his arm, tugging him back and away. “I don’t care what he said, Logan I don’t care, come on, not here- not like _this_ , let’s get out of here, okay?” Levelling his gaze to hers, Veronica could tell he was still seeing red, but Aaron was getting up, and Veronica wasn’t sure Lynn Echolls wanted a big scene for her birthday.  
  
    Clarence helped Aaron to his feet, after a couple of good knocks on the head, and the drinks he’d had earlier, Aaron was in pretty bad shape, and sputtering angry, nasty words at his son and his son’s date.  
  
  “Yeah,” Logan nodded, smoothing hair from Veronica’s face, “yeah, let’s get out of here.”


	21. Team Logan

    Deciding to drive them back to her apartment, Veronica kept the radio on low in the car, while neither of them said anything. Keys in her door, Veronica trusted the invitation was implied but nudged Logan inside anyway, sitting him down at her kitchen table, dropping hey keys next to him, and going to get a bag of frozen peas from the freezer.  
  
    Watching her go into action-mode, Logan ran his hand through his hair, trying to feel guilty about hitting his father, but really just coming up empty. Over the years, his father had said things, did things, that were punish-worthy. For the most part, Logan tolerated it all with a crooked smile and a dry joke, because why wouldn’t he? When all of a sudden, Veronica standing there, hearing awful things about herself, became a really good reason why not to.  
  
    “Veronica, the stuff my dad said, about-”  
  
    “Your dad was heavily intoxicated,” she interrupted to point out, feeling it very relevant to the things he’d been saying. “I don’t care what he had to say about me, Logan. It’s not like we both didn’t know I didn’t belong there. It’s not like I really didn’t know I didn’t meet the minimum income quota; and was it just me or was there a height requirement for that party?” Veronica remembered feeling very small in that crowd, not just personality-wise.  
  
    “Even my _mom’s_ like, five inches taller than you, and she’s small; was your growth stunted as a child? Did you drink a lot of coffee or something?” Logan couldn’t hold back a laugh, and Veronica smiled victorious when the tangible tension melted away some. “I just don’t want you to _think_ that what he said about me, only wanting to-”  
  
    “I don’t.” She quieted him, and met his eyes, bringing the iced bag of frozen peas to his hand where his knuckles were already bruising. “I don’t think you’re just playing games with me, and I _know_ I hold your attention.” Veronica sighed through her smile. “You were right though, about reconciling _Hollywood Reporter_ you, and _you_ you; apparently, not a lot of people you know feel the need to do it.” She nodded, “I get it, it’s kind of hard work, and you don’t make it so easy, but that’s okay.” Pressing the ice to his hand, Veronica stopped herself from leaning to kiss his knuckles in some sort of romantic gesture. She figured all the face-punching and the grand party exit counted as all the romantic gestures one evening could handle. “That being said, is it _important_ you keep your cock in your pants, or can we defy that one?”  
  
    Laughing outright, Logan shook his head; she definitely held his attention, alright. Clarence Weidman could screw.  
  
   “I’ve never heard you say the word _cock,_ ” he admitted, and laughed still, leaning his elbow on her kitchen counter like he hadn’t just disrupted his entire known universe for her.  
  
   “I didn’t like it, but it felt necessary to make the point; normally I like my dirty words a little euphemised, you know? Whatever happened to good old fashioned imagination? _You keep that jimmy-stick in your dynamite holster, you hear?”_ Letting herself laugh, too, Veronica wondered what changed after the party, what it meant for Logan in his family. “Logan, what you did…” She looked up at him, too seriously for any laughter to linger.  
  
   “I had to do it,” he explained, leaning down to her to kiss the end of her nose, Logan smirked when she leaned into it. “I’m glad it was over you, and not something stupid but, let’s just say it’s been a long time coming.”  
  
   Veronica had gotten that feeling in the moment, but it wasn’t relieving to hear Logan’s confirmation. The great Aaron Echolls may have had Oscars, but Veronica guessed that didn’t guarantee him any Father of the Year trophies.  
  
    For a long time, Logan knew things would have to change, someday, and he felt like someday just came.  Smoothing hair behind her ear with the hand she wasn’t tending to, Logan let himself catch up; looking in her eyes, and just taking a breath, Logan realized something.  
  
   “Do I fit in, in your world, Veronica?” He asked innocently, thumb trailing along the line of her chin, even as it ducked. Playing with a half-baked idea, Logan truly wasn’t sure of what answer to expect from her.  
  
   “You mean, the PI world, with my dad, and Weevil, and Wallace?” Closing her eyes, Veronica leaned into his touch, forgetting for a second about the ice she had to his hand.  
  
   “And your little dog, too,” he growled, faux-menacingly, kissing each of her closed eyes.  
  
   “There are no red carpets in my world. No velvet ropes, or high-end glamor; my floor doesn’t look like a bank turd.” She opened her eyes to look down at the cheap hardwood.  
  
   “But your world has you,” Logan whispered, kissing under her ear.  
  
   “Wanna stay awhile?” Veronica whispered back, breathlessly, her forehead pressed to his, their noses just touching, lips curved in opposite, unsure smiles. She offered it; an open invitation, unfettered access, to all of her world he could stand.  
  
   “Forever, if I can.” Pulling her into a deep kiss, Logan’s hands wandered down to her hips, lifting her off the ground, bruised hand already forgotten in the new world they were forging.  
  
   Falling into her bed against him, Veronica let a giggle escape, tugging his shirt over his head. Pulling her down, closer to him, he kissed a trail against the neckline of her shirt.  
  
   “Is this the part where I whip out my jimmy-stick?” Laughing into her neck, Logan felt her giggles vibrate through them both.  
  
   “Oh, I love it when a man can talk dirty to me.”  


* * *

  
      
  
    “So that’s it, this is the last of the boxes?” A sweaty and shirtless Weevil wiped sweat from his forehead, after dumping the last box into the u-haul.  
  
    “That’s it,” Veronica smiled, throwing him the wet rag the guys had been using to cool down from the California heat all day. “Thanks, Weevil,” she added, softly. Helping people move was a far cry from his regular gig, but Veronica had a way of squeezing every last exception out of him.  
  
    “Hey, you got my grandmother her shiny new job and raise,” Weevil nodded, “so we’re even. No stairs in the new place, either, so her knee won’t bother her so bad.”  
  
    Slapping the u-haul door closed, Veronica turned to see Wallace, Logan, and Logan’s new almost-roommate, Dick, coming out toward the truck. In a second-story window, Veronica saw Aaron Echolls’ scowl, clear as day. Waving, with a crisp, false smile, Veronica figured that was about all the tender goodbye he deserved from her.  
  
   In the weeks since Lynn’s party, Logan had been mostly staying at her place, and it wasn’t so much that she didn’t want him there all the time, as that her place was _small._ And Logan had a lot of things, things he wanted to move with. As tensions and tempers flared on both sides of Echolls showdown, eventually the tabloids had a field day pitting Aaron against Logan, showing a distraught Lynn caught in the middle. Buried in a drawer, Veronica had a secret _Team Logan_ t-shirt she saw on the strip that she couldn’t resist buying. But now, with everything decided, actions taken that weren’t flying fists, the day was calm. They’d simply marched into the Echolls home, took everything Lynn and Logan had boxed up, and that was the end of it. Almost.  
  
    “Ready to go?” Logan saw Veronica’s wave, and knew his dad would be watching them leave.  
  
    With his mother in the tropics on a belated birthday retreat to rethink her marriage, his sister upstate on a d-list movie-set, and even Letty Navarro gone from the Echolls’ house, Logan bet that the quiet of a too-empty home was just about starting to set in on his father.  
  
   “So this is how Tinkerbell dies,” Logan squeezed Veronica’s hand without a look back at the house, “alone and miserable. And probably drunk.” 


	22. Running the Honeypot

   “Hey Logan, your girlfriend’s ripping me off again, man,” Dick shouted over Veronica’s shoulder, where Logan was in the kitchen dividing up cold pizza.    
  
    “I heard her  _ tell _ you that she was gonna take all your money,” Logan laughed, bringing the plates over to the dining-room-table-turned-poker-arena.    
  
    “Can’t say you weren’t warned,” Veronica winked at Dick, and took her pizza with a high five and forehead kiss from Logan.    
  
    “You were  _ challenging _ me how was I supposed to leave that alone,” Dick sighed, shoving her easy-earned cash her way.    
  
    Laughing, Veronica nodded. Dick was alright, as alright as people who introduced themselves as  _ Dick _ could be, she figured. He still wasn’t smart enough to walk away from a poker game with her, but cash in hand, Veronica couldn’t hold it against him.    
  
    Five months after her birthday, Lynn Echolls filed for divorce- amid her husband’s many public cheating scandals.  _ Some _ of her settlement money went into founding Logan and Dick’s new enterprise- a new nightclub for Neptune’s local single scene, the  _ Honeypot.  _ With Dick at the bar, Veronica knew they’d never be truly profitable, but Logan managed the club like circus ring leader, keeping the crowd occupied and drinking. Not to mention, Veronica could run some of her client meetings, and other side-projects through the  _ Honeypot’s _ backroom. Occasionally, even her dad stopped in for a late-night after-work drink with his favorite daughter.    
  
    Altogether rapidly, the club became a sort of hub, of their knew, full lives, and when Veronica stopped to think about it, she found it funny.    
  
    “Now that I’ve successfully taken the candy from the baby,” Veronica snorted a laugh at Dick’s wounded face, “I need a favor,” she smiled wide, Logan’s way. “I need to borrow your bouncer tonight,” she said, taking a bite of her pizza, letting Logan roll his eyes even though she’d already won. “Not even the whole night, you and Dick can manage security for awhile, and I promise to have Weevil back before you even notice.”  _ He was mine first, _ she didn’t point out.    
  
    Huffing a sigh, Logan nodded, glaring at Dick’s already-moot protests.    
  
   “I’ll send my dad over as extra hands if you want,” eyebrows up, Veronica was at her most innocent and helpful, and devious, “bust all that heads that need busting.”    
  
   “I see why she doesn’t work in customer service,” Dick snorted, and remembered he had an empty wallet. “We should take her to Vegas, though. That’d be fun.”    
  
    Getting up, Logan kissed Veronica’s cheek, “Probably more challenging marks in Vegas,” he teased her.    
  
   “Probably not, though,” Veronica laughed. "Besides, it's not like I'd win the lottery twice," with a wink, Veronica didn't imagine her life without the Win-A-Date, she didn't want to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huuuge thank you to everyone who liked/commented/read this story. ya'll are so inspiring, flattering, and paaatient with me and my silly little stories. thank you!!


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